#Harry Tytle
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Gli Aristogatti
Benvenuti o bentornati sul nostro blog. Nello scorso articolo siamo tornati a parlare di cinema italiano e lo abbiamo fatto con un’opera recente che merita sicuramente molta attenzione, Il mostro della cripta. Un film horror comico italiano costato molto poco ma realizzato con enorme impegno e passione, una pellicola ambientata negli anni ’80 che vede come protagonista un ragazzo appassionato di…
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#animazione#Buena Vista#Charles Lane#Disney#Eric Cleworth#Eva Gabor#film#film d&039;animazione#Frank Thomas#Gary Dubin#Georges Hautecourt#Gli Aristogatti#Harry Tytle#Julius Svendsen#Ken Anderson#Larry Clemmons#Liz English#Madame Adelaide Bonfamille#Nancy Kulp#Parigi#Phil Harris#Ralph Wright#Recensione#Recensione film#Roddy Maude-Roxby#tecnica xenografica#The Aristocats#Tom McGowan#Vance Gerry#Walt Disney
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sorry in advance for the rambling BUT last week i saw harry live and holy shit, life-changing experience that had me falling head over feels for the lad, the second the concert ended i knew i had to come here and finish reading tytl AND now i'm reading that makes four –only on chappie three– but this came up on my ig and i pictured one of the girls, probably CeCe taking a nap during a concert and my heart melted, okay, this been too long! thank you for writing, byeeeee
OMG can you imagine??? Thank you for reading friend!!!! 💛 so glad you enjoyed the Harry show, he puts on a good show 😌
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Walt Disney
One lesson you can learn from studying the life of Walt Disney is your actions and your words are what make up your integrity. How you act and what you say can either help or hinder your testimony to others. Walt Disney was a man of integrity and humility. He set up the chairs for his own private screening of Fantasia. He gave money out of his own wallet to any cast member who went the extra mile for a customer. He and Roy would forgo a paycheck at times in order to pay their staff when they were first starting out broke and creating Micky Mouse cartoons. He rode his own Park attractions in full disguise and timed his rides with a stopwatch to see if the employees were cheating his customers out of the full allotted time for each ride. He worked until the early hours of the morning painting the "20,000 Leagues Under the Sea" attraction the night before the grand opening of Disneyland.
Walt Disney was also a brilliant man ahead of his time. He sold over 3 million Mickey Mouse watches in 1935 in the middle of the Great Depression thanks to the genius of his marketing team. He invented animatronics and created Stereo sound when he made Fantasia with a multi-track sound system that made the audience feel as if they were at a live concert. It was called Fantasound.
The man who created one of the largest empires in the world, never cared about making money. In Pat Williams’ biography "How to Be Like Walt", Walt himself stated, “I’ve always been bored with the idea of just making money. I’ve wanted to do things, I wanted to build things. Get something going. People look at me in different ways. Some of them say ‘The guy has no regard for money.’ That’s not true. I have had regard for money. But I’m not like some people who worship money as something you’ve got to have piled up somewhere. I’ve only thought of money in one way, and that is to do something with it, you see?”
He disliked dealing with the financial side of the growing empire and left that to his CFO and brother, Roy. Walt hated it so much that after endless failed attempts, Roy finally convinced his younger brother to attend a stockholders meeting.
Two good things came out of that meeting. The first came when Walt saw the stone faces of the businessmen in their perfect expensive suits. He just found his inspiration for the bank bosses for his future film, Mary Poppins.
The second good thing came after he boldly read a simple letter from a man in Florida who owned a couple of shares telling Walt Disney, “I don’t care if I ever get any dividends. You just keep up the good work and keep making good pictures.” After reading the letter, Walt focused his attention back to the room and stated, “I wish this company had more shareholders like that one. He understands what Disney is all about. Now, it’s been very nice to see all of you, but if you don’t mind, I’ve got a studio to run.” and left the room. Roy never asked him to attend another meeting ever again.
Walt struggled to convince Roy to back the idea of Disneyland. Many of the famous classic films we know today including Alice in Wonderland, Fantasia, and Pinocchio bombed at the box office. Constantly in debt after so many failures, no matter how many awards the studio won over the years including setting records for a single nominee. It looked like the dream of Disneyland was going to be delayed even longer.
Instead of reaching out to rich friends in Hollywood or begging the stockholders, the people he turned to for the financial backing for Disneyland were his own employees. They believed in his dreams as much as he did. He wasn’t too confident in asking his own people for money and the first person he asked was the studio’s nurse, Hazel George. She not only donated to the cause but also spearheaded the in-house charity group Disneyland Backers and Boosters.
Another prominent woman at the Disney studios was Harriet Burns, the first female Imagineer who helped design and build the Disneyland attractions. And before she became the future Mrs. Disney, Lillian Bounds, was a young inker and painter at the Disney Brothers Studio (later renamed the Walt Disney Studios) along with her friend Kathleen. Two of Walt’s very first employees at the start up studio were women doing the hard jobs and not just errand girls who simply looked pretty and got coffee for the bosses.
Most of the staff loved Walt. He never discriminated or thought lowly of anyone no matter their race, background, religion, or anything else. Neal Gabler’s biography "Walt Disney: A Triumph of the American Imagination", suggests the slander and lies of him being Anti-Semite most likely came about from Anti-Semite Ben Sharpsteen who worked for the studio and Walt was “guilty by association.”
Pat Williams states, after consulting many Disney scholars, another likely reason for the rumors was because of a smear campaign against Disney during a strike in 1941. Union chief, Herb Sorrell once told Walt “I will smear you and I will make a dust bowl out of your studio.” Sorrell stayed true his word of tarnishing the Disney name. For nearly 80 years those rumors have circulated but nothing to back up those ridiculous claims. Firsthand accounts including other Jewish employees who hated Walt because he didn’t agree with their political stances, never accused Walt of being an Anti-Semite.
Kathleen and Richard Greene also addressed the question of Anti-Semitism in the Disney family in their book, “Inside the Dream: The Personal Story of Walt Disney”. They discussed the relationship a former Jewish neighbor of Roy and Walt’s childhood neighborhood in Kansas named Meyer Menda saying she never experienced any sort of Anti-Semitism from the Disney family. As well as Walt’s daughter Sharon dated a Jewish man at one time with no family objections.
Also, if Walt Disney was an Anti-Semite, he never would have hired the famous Sherman Brothers who wrote the music for "The Jungle Book", "Mary Poppins", "Aristocats", "Bedknobs and Broomsticks", and the song "It’s A Small World" for the attraction. Robert Sherman recalls in "How to Be Like Walt", the time Walt defended the Brothers and fired one of his own lawyers who hated minorities and who called the Sherman Brothers the “Jewish boys.”
In the biography by Pat Williams, "How to Be Like Walt", Joe Grant, a Jewish animator for Snow White and the Seven Dwarves and the only animator to animate both Fantasia films, said, “Some of the most influential people at the studio were Jewish.”
Neal Gabler’s biography, "Walt Disney: The Triumph of The American Imagination", mentions production manager Harry Tytle and Kay Kamen stated the Walt Disney studios had more Jews than the Book of Leviticus. Harry Tytle had changed his last name from Teitelbaum to hide his Jewish background but when he told Walt Disney he was half Jewish, Walt replied if he were all Jewish, he’d be better.
Pat Williams and Neal Gabler also report firsthand testimonies of Walt’s love for the Jewish community. Including, how Walt donated money to Jewish charities and even had a Protestant preacher, a Catholic priest, and a Jewish rabbi at the opening ceremony of Disneyland to bless the event. Pat Williams’ biography also states that in 1955 the B’Nai B’rith chapter of Beverly Hills cited Walt Disney as their man of the year.
Walt was never a racist, sexist, nor hated minorities of any kind. If he did, he never would have hired them for spotlighted high-profile positions and certainly never would have made the “It’s a Small World” attraction that not only celebrates the cultures of the world but also showing the world we aren’t that different from each other outside of customs and languages.
Pat Williams mentions the time Walt told Billy Graham on private tour of the Park “Billy, look around you. Look at all the people, representing all nationalities, all colors, all languages. And they are all smiling, all having fun together. Billy this is the real world. The fantasy is outside.”
One of his story artists was an African American named, Floyd Norman. He also testified saying, “I never felt any prejudice from Walt.” A statement found in Neal Gabler’s book.
Walt Disney loved all people no matter status, age, race, religion, or gender. Everyone was equal in his eyes and deserved the same amount of respect no matter what. He never even allowed his employees to call him Mr. Disney. Everyone was on a first name basis. He believed everyone deserved a fair and equal chance at life and he did his best in words and actions to shows that.
So why have the rumors lasted so long? The slander and lies sadly have continued to spur on because many people choose to simply regurgitate rumors out of laziness instead of researching the information themselves. Hollywood does it, college professors do it, and even biographers. Research information yourselves and never take rumors for fact without backing them up with real facts. Especially firsthand accounts and eyewitnesses. These testimonies were firsthand accounts of people who knew him and worked for him and the real Walt Disney was a kindhearted, loving, brilliant man ahead of his time who loved people, loved by his people, and wanted to create a utopia of his own for everyone to enjoy.
Sources:
How to Be Like Walt by Pat Williams
Walt Disney: The Triumph of The American Imagination by Neal Gabler
Inside the Dream: The Personal Story of Walt Disney by Kathleen and Richard Greene
Highly recommend these biographies! You might want highlighters and pens with you when you read them.
#disney#movies#classic#film#hollywood#disney princess#disney princesses#walt disney classics#walt disney co#walt disney archives#walt disney imagineering#walt disney records#walt disney quote#walt disney television#walt disney world#walt disney feature animation#walt disney animation#walt disney studios#walt disney movies#walt disney presents#bookstagram#bookstore#bookshop#bookworm#bookaddict#bookblr#book blog#sleeping beauty#celebs#celebrity
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And so the disney execs ask, “What’s the name of this movie?”
And Tom McGowan, Tom Rowe, and Harry Tytle say, “The Aristocats!”
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SHEET MUSIC 897560231387
Sun, 17 Jun 2018 1:13:11 EDT
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Sun, 17 Jun 2018 1:13:11 EDT
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Sun, 17 Jun 2018 1:13:11 EDT
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Sun, 17 Jun 2018 1:13:11 EDT
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Sun, 17 Jun 2018 1:13:11 EDT
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Sun, 17 Jun 2018 1:13:11 EDT
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Sun, 17 Jun 2018 1:13:11 EDT
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Sun, 17 Jun 2018 1:13:11 EDT
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Sun, 17 Jun 2018 1:13:11 EDT
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Sun, 17 Jun 2018 1:13:11 EDT
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Sun, 17 Jun 2018 1:13:11 EDT
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Sun, 17 Jun 2018 1:13:11 EDT
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Harry question. Now that his album has been out awhile, are there any songs on it that make you think of certain characters you’ve written?
Matilda gives me unplanned vibes. Just curious if other songs give you vibes to different characters
UGh yes I love this question! Off the top of my head here’s the list
UNPLANNED
Matilda
Daydreaming
Satellite
Keep driving!!! Big time
LNT
Grape juice
TMF
Matilda
As it was
Satellite
LMT
TYTL
As it was
UDOS
As it was
Boyfriends
LOML
Little freak
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was listening to tis the damn season and it reminded me of tytl mc and harry so naturally i'm re-reading that story now 😌
SUCH A HOME FOR THE HOLIDAYS VIBE 🎄
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TOO SOON TO TELL, the two years too late sequel
You thought having the gang back together would be a dream come true, turns out it's not. *complete*
tag list | talk to me | the playlist
chapter one
chapter two
chapter three
chapter four
chapter five
chapter six
chapter seven
A Woman's World - e x t r a
chapter eight
chapter nine
chapter ten
#tytl#two years too late#too soon to tell#tstt#idkthisisjustforfanfic#harry styles#harry styles ou fanfic#harry styles fiction#harry styles fiction writing#harry styles fanfiction#harry styles fan fiction#harry styles sequel#harry styles smut#harry styles one shot#harry styles blurb
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too soon to tell, chapter n i n e
the playlist
The roads were slick in the cold air, your platform boots gave you an extra few inches that you prayed would translate to confidence once you had a glass of wine.
You took the bus, too stressed to show up at Jessie’s or Bryn’s to get ready and face the questions you knew they’d have. Are you going to talk to him? Are you going to ask? Do you want to get back together? Are you going to confess that you still love him?
No way, not now. Not now that you realized your own faults and your own baggage had gotten just as tangled up and messy as theirs did.
So after a deep breath you knocked on the door twice, music played faintly inside and after a few moments of trying to slow your heartbeat, he pulled the door open and looked down at you, confusion splashed across his face.
“Smalls--you’re early.”
“I’m early?” you stuck your chin out in disbelief, sure you’d misheard him. “Jake said the party started at eight--it’s eight thirty--I’m late. I was trying to be late.”
You looked over his shoulder and found his house empty behind him. His lips parted and then he offered you a small smile, stepped aside to let you into the foyer of a place that once felt like home.
“They’re fucking with us.”
“What?”
He took your coat as you shrugged out of it, walked to hang it up on the rack in the corner. Over his shoulder, he smiled a little. “Jake said eight knowing that you’d show up late, but knowing it would still be before the party actually starts. I told everyone to come for nine.”
You let it sink in for a minute as you stood across from him atop the marble floor. Jake, scheming, likely with the help of Jessie if not Bryn as well. Now you were stuck here with Harry, no buffer, until one of them showed up or at least until someone else knocked on the door and saved you from humiliation. So much for butting out.
“Great,” you nodded, looking around to take in the sight of the house. Things were still in the same place where you’d left them. A lamp you’d bought up north with your mum still sat on the end table by the couch. The mirror he’d picked out online with Erica still hung above the console table in the hallway.
“D’you want a drink? I’ve got Pinot Noir.”
He was already moving towards the kitchen, like a glass of red wine would soften the sharp edges of your first solo interaction in weeks. He pulled a glass from the cupboard over head, you walked to the drawer where he kept the opener and then froze.
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to act like--”
He let out a chuckle, smiled when his eyebrows rose. “Like you used to live here?”
“I never lived here,” you said quickly, picking up the corkscrew and handing it to him.
“How’s the new job been?” He changed the subject quickly, slicing the foil wrapper.
“Good, you know, getting settled in.”
“Yeah? Meet any nice coworkers?”
You nodded, clenched your teeth a little at the small talk. You hadn’t experienced this side of Harry in a long time: the polished, poised, public-facing persona he’d crafted for interviews and red carpets and strangers. Your heart stung a bit when he poured you a glass and slid it forward on the counter.
“We don’t have to do this, you know. I can just head out or something--I don’t want this to be too weird.”
He smiled apologetically, braced himself against the counter. “I’m doing it, aren’t I?”
“Doing what?”
“Being weird,” he laughed. “You know, making small talk and acting like we’re strangers.”
You shrugged, not ready to admit his words were eerily similar to the thought bubbles that hung overhead.
“Adam said we’d do it. Jake too, but I like to think that Jake’s the dramatic one.”
“They said we’d do what?”
He poured himself a glass and took a sip. “Be awkward, put them in the middle, do the shit we used to do when we both liked each other and couldn’t admit it.”
He looked up quickly at the end of his sentence, aware of how your current predicament was quite the opposite.
“They put themselves in the middle,” you reminded him. “They said the same thing to me when we first broke up and acted like we’re the ones creating drama but they’re pretty quick to try to set us up and stir the pot.”
He rolled his eyes. “Our friends, stirring the pot? Never.”
You let out a laugh, one that felt comfortable and not forced. He noticed, apparently, shifted on his feet before he ran a hand through his hair.
“M’kind of surprised you came, honestly. I didn’t know if you’d show up.”
You rolled your eyes a little but laughed. “M’not that much of a dick, am I?”
He shrugged, the dimple in his left cheek made you wonder if this was flirting. He wouldn’t--he couldn’t. After everything that happened you were sure it was the nerves and the scent of his cologne that had you questioning if he was trying to make you feel this way.
But you remembered the promise you made to yourself when you stood in front of your mirror earlier this evening. If you had a moment alone with Harry (which you thought would be unlikely), you’d ask him to share his side of things.
After learning from Adam that Harry actually was trying to move things forward, you realized something: you and Harry were often looking at things from different perspectives. When you saw monotony and repetition in the relationship, apparently he saw stability--enough so to consider doing it forever.
So on top of learning that Harry had been looking at rings, you realized you’d been enough of a prick to not consider how his recounting of the same event might vary drastically from yours, which got you thinking.
You’d never really heard his rendition of the truth from December 29th, 2015, so with a glass of wine in hand and an empty kitchen:
“I actually have a question,” you said this suddenly, his eyebrows arched in surprise but he nodded for you to continue. “Did you--uh, do you remember what you told Jessie and them the night at Kenny’s Tilley’s?”
His mouth pulled up in the corner. “The infamous night at Kenny Tilley’s?”
“Yes,” you rolled your eyes.
“Well we’ve been there many times,” he defended his question.
“Right and they’ve all been so memorable that I would ask you specific questions--”
“Alright,” he relented, leaning forward on the counter to rest his elbows on the granite. He shook his head and pushed his lips out in thought. “I remember being in the bathroom with you,” he said, fighting another smirk.
You nodded. Obviously.
“I remember being on the deck out back with them afterwards.”
“The deck?” You’d never thought much about the rest of Harry’s night--in fact, you’d never thought much at all about his experience before, during, and after. The night, in your mind, had been a carefully preserved memory, frozen in time, the edges of the story faded to black, nonexistent.
“Yeah,” he shrugged. “I was completely freaked out. It wasn’t a good night for me,” he admitted.
“What do you mean?”
He sipped his wine and his eyes wandered off over your shoulder, like he could see the events coming into view. “Well, I had a pretty uncertain future at that point.”
December 29th, 2015 - 9:42pm
Harry was sat in the backseat of Jake’s car, knees cramped close to his chest when Adam turned around to see him.
“Also--not for nothing--but Y/N and Charlie broke up.”
“They did?”
“Bad one, too,” Jake let out a huff of air in sympathy for their friend. “She’s been wicked upset, but last I heard Jessie had convinced her to come out tonight.”
“When did this happen?” Harry tried to sound uninterested, like he was just asking what anyone else would ask.
“A few days ago, yeah?” Adam turned to Jake.
“Think so,” he shrugged.
Harry pushed his lips out in thought. Were his friends telling him this because they had a suspicion this information was relevant to Harry? Or were they just warning him that Y/N might not be in the best of moods despite the holiday season?
Jake’s car came to a stop by the curb on Kenny Tilley’s street and Adam unbuckled.
“Good that she’s coming out, then.”
“Yeah,” Jake shrugged, reaching for a bottle of vodka from his backseat after he cut the engine, a quick look in Harry’s direction. “She might need to rebound or something, never know.”
“Alright,” Harry rolled his eyes, now clued in on their antics and typical scheming.
“M’just sayin’, mate--you’re the one who’s been asking ‘bout her a lot more.”
“She’s my friend,” Harry tried to reason, climbing out of the backseat.
“Bryn’s also your friend but you don’t ask us nearly as much about her. Same with Jessie.”
“Jessie’s a handful and Bryn’s a lesbian,” Harry shoved his hands in his pockets as he followed them up the front walk. There were already people inside, kids from school that Harry had long known. But now he was here as Harry. There was no more band, no more shows, no more name-dropping of celebrities as a buffer when Harry had no clue how to interact with his former classmates.
“You’re actually helping us make our point,” Jake turned around to watch Harry with amused confusion on his face.
“Can we just go inside, please?”
Adam held up a hand. “Wait, do you want to fix your hair? Bryn just texted and said they’re in the kitchen.”
“Fuck both of you,” Harry nudged them aside and pushed the door open. It was relatively calm in the living room, no one was snogging on the couch and no one was puking in the bathroom--yet. A few waves from old friends made Harry feel like maybe his charm was fading with the band.
Was this it? Now that the band was done and now that he didn’t know what was in store for him--it was just regular old Harry? No more school friends flocking to greet him? Could he even count on the ego boost of Mollie Amsbury throwing herself at him like she did every Christmas?
Harry wasn’t feeling great as he made his way towards the kitchen, but seeing Jessie spot him in the crowd and immediately turn to tell Bryn and Y/N made him feel even more uncertain. She was sat in the middle of them, hands around a plastic cup that undoubtedly had alcohol in it to nurse her broken heart.
Harry offered a smile when he got close. “Hi.”
Bryn and Jessie stood and greeted him with a hug, Y/N seemed to follow their lead but her eyes looked sad and rejected.
“Didn’t know you were coming, H,” Jessie said.
“Yeah, I know--I’m--”
“You’re terrible at keeping in touch,” Bryn laughed. “We know. S’good to see you.”
It felt funnier this time, like chatting with them took more effort on Harry’s part. Smile, laugh, ask about work, their parents. Maybe it was a combination of the band breaking up and Harry’s sudden self-doubt about his own future, or maybe it was the way Y/N seemed to eye him with a level of disdain that he wasn’t quite used to.
“Missed you, Smalls,” his head dipped to the side, an attempt to get a smile out of her.
She scoffed, immediately met by an elbow to the side from Bryn that seemed to make her straighten up. “Yeah--same.”
Harry felt his own eyebrows furrow in confusion and that’s when Jake said: “We’re gonna grab a drink,” before he tugged Harry towards the other side of the room.
Adam got three cups from a stack on the counter and Jake uncapped the vodka he’d brought.
“Okay--is it just me or does no one even care that I’m here? Band breaks up and now no one gives a shit about me?”
“No offense, mate, but…get over yourself,” Jake said as he started pouring. “The girls just didn’t know you were coming, and they’re weird like that. They prefer to get a warning.”
“That I’m coming to a party with my own friends?”
“Yeah,” Adam waved them off. “Don’t let it bother you. Y/N’s been going through it and Jessie and Bryn haven’t really left her side this week.”
Harry rolled his eyes at that. How could someone like Charlie break Y/N’s heart? The one time he met him--which, albeit, was backstage in 2014--the kid seemed a bit dull and honestly, he felt like Y/N could do a lot better. Someone more interesting and funnier and--Harry took the cup of vodka and coke that Jake handed over and watched as Y/N rolled her eyes at Jessie--more like him.
But he did his best to ignore it, he meandered around the living room and answered peoples questions as he caught up and said hello: what comes next? I don’t know. Why’d the band break up? A lot of reasons. Will you ever get back together? I don’t know.
The truth is that Harry was reeling from the turn of events in 2015, and while he didn’t have the slightest clue as to what the future held for him, spending more time with the five people who knew him best felt like a good place to start.
By 12:23am he was more at ease, aided mostly by the drink in his hand and the fact that he spotted Y/N waiting for the loo, eyes closed as she leaned against the wall.
He’d just say hi, ask how she was doing, maybe he should play it cool and pretend he forgot who Charlie was.
“Hey,” he muttered it quickly, her eyes snapped open and she nearly knocked a picture of Kenny Tilley’s parents off the wall.
“Jesus,” she said, a hand over her heart. “Didn’t you see my eyes were closed?”
“Sorry--I--” he smirked, “you weren’t sleeping, were you?”
“I was standing up,” she rolled her eyes, “just waiting.”
He watched her for a second, unsure if he should admit that she’d been occupying more space in his head. Brent Gerring opened the door to the loo and headed back for the living room when Y/N shifted on her feet.
She hesitated for a second but offered an awkward smile. “Well, gotta go.”
“Wait, Smalls,” Harry took two steps into the bathroom, no plan of action and no reason for following her other than a sudden desire to be near her.
He shut the door somewhat sloppily thanks to the drink he still nursed, she made a funny face when he almost tripped over his own feet.
“What was that?” She peered behind him, eyes trailing down to metal object that now lay atop the tile.
“Dunno--” he bent down, returning to eye level with a tarnished piece of gold in his hand. “Shit.”
“Harry--what the fuck did you do?” She grabbed it out of his hand and pushed him aside to inspect the damage. He stepped back, watched as she tried to shove it in place and then wiggled the knob.
“S’locked,” he said, a hint of guilt laced through his low voice. Sure, Harry had come in here with the intent of talking to her, catching up, having a split second without Jessie or Bryn over her shoulder--but he hadn’t expected this.
“Gathered that,” she bit back, gave the knob one more go before she turned to look at him.
Harry shrunk a bit under her stare, realizing he better find a solution to this if he wanted her to ever speak to him again. “D’you have a phone? I left mine in the car.”
“No, I think I gave it to Jessie--so I don’t text Charlie.”
Now was his chance. “Charlie?”
“My boyfriend,” a sigh. “I guess, ex-boyfriend.”
“Oh,” he nodded, making a face like he was just now able to place the name. “Sorry--someone will come. Eventually someone will have to use the loo or notice we’re gone.”
She looked around at the tiny bathroom, hand towels that Kenny’s mum must have picked out, the tiny soaps that people steal from hotels. She slid down to the floor and Harry watched as she brushed her hair to one side of her neck.
“Can you turn the light out? S’fucking bright.” She held a hand up to shield her eyes from the overhead fixture, Harry looked up quickly but then moved for the switch. An audible sigh when he flicked the switch off, he slid to the ground to sit with his knees opposite hers.
“Guess it’s a good time to catch up,” he twisted the ring on his middle finger and forced a laugh.
“I’m fine, Harry.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah.”
She averted her gaze for a second, moved to sit on her hands like she didn’t know what to do with them.
“School’s good?”
“Yep.”
“Your parents?”
“Mhm.”
“And Katie, too?”
“All good.”
A moment of hope passed--a voice outside the door that would maybe notice two people stuck inside. Deflated chests when nothing happened.
“So Charlie--was he from uni, right?”
“Yeah,” she spoke in a breathy sigh, almost like she was about to divulge more. She pushed her lips out in thought and was quiet for a second. Maybe she felt his eyes on her face, he took in the curve of her cheek and the way her hair fell in front of her ears. She looked up at him but then back down to the tile beneath her.
“Think it’s over for good?”
“Why are you so interested in my life suddenly?”
This caught him off guard, so much so that his shoulders tensed and he had to purposefully lower them from beside his ears. “Sorry--just...making small talk.”
“Well you’re a little late.”
“What?”
She sat up at this and crossed her arms. “We haven’t spoken in a year, m’pretty sure. You barely even text on our birthdays--you didn’t come to Adam’s gran’s funeral--and yet you show up here and expect everyone to be so thrilled to see you? Did you ever realize that maybe we’re not? Maybe our lives have moved on without you and you don’t just get to be a part of them whenever you please?”
Harry didn’t mean to let his eyes go wide, he had no choice but to swallow and breathe and try to calm his heart from beating out of his chest. He’d long been getting shit from them about keeping in touch--but hearing it come from Y/N with a level of emotion in her voice he wasn’t even aware he could evoke in her--well, that just made Harry get defensive.
Here he was, trying to catch up and get reacquainted and Y/N was acting like he was somehow to blame for her sour mood. What was he supposed to do? Wear a t-shirt that said I come in peace?
“Well, s’not like I’ve been sitting around in my living room, y’know. I’ve been working my arse off for years and now s’just over and I have to answer to you?”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
He sighed, remembered what Adam and Jake had said: Y’N’s been going through it.
“Smalls, I don’t want to do this.”
“Do what?” she asked, turning towards him again. “Face the shit you left behind? Face the fact that some of us have missed you and waited for you to call or text or even just say hi when you were home?”
Was she crying? Harry suddenly felt in over his head, desperately wishing that someone would knock on the door and save him from having to figure out what to say to a drunk and emotional girl that maybe he was now interested in.
“I’ve got a lot going on right now.”
She rolled her eyes but didn’t reply, Harry was certain he’d fucked it all up when she reached for the door and grunted when it was still locked.
“Of course--of course I get fucking stuck in the toilet with you on tonight of all nights. First Charlie, now you. Men who’ve ruined my life!”
The words tumbled out of her mouth with ease, Harry had to rewind internally and play it back, make sure he heard her right. “Wh--I ruined your life?”
“No,” she said quickly. “Forget it.”
Now he was intrigued, now he needed to know what on earth had her so upset with him when all he’d tried to do was say hi and ask how things had been.
“Y/N, what are you talking about?”
She was quiet for a second, shook her head and stared at the cuff of her sleeve. Harry was frozen, hanging on every word as she sniffled through the tears that he could see pooling her eyes.
“You left,” she said quietly, the anger suddenly gone from her voice when she looked up at him. “You left and I didn’t like it because I was--” a drunken sigh. “I had feelings for you.”
Everything seemed to screech to a halt--the music outside, the laughter muffled through the door, the moonlight that streamed through the window. He paid very close attention to the past tense, had, licked his lips and inhaled through his nose.
“Why--why didn’t you tell me?”
She let out a sarcastic laugh, “what was I supposed to say, Harry? Come back from your one shot at fame because I have a crush on you?”
He blinked a few times--it wouldn’t have been that simple, but Harry’s mind raced with possibility when he considered how different things would have been. “I--I didn’t know,” he said.
“Well, whatever.” She stood from the floor and moved over to the window, the words she said almost vanished in thin air when she wiped her cheeks. “S’fucking hot in here and that was a long time ago. S’fine.”
He stood up, too. Y/N moved to open the window and Harry just stared at her, mostly contemplating if he should admit that she was the main reason he came home this Christmas.
“Why are you looking at me like that?”
Was he staring too much? Was he drunk and an idiot and had he already ruined whatever he’d hoped this could be? He backtracked: “m’not.”
“Okay,” she rolled her eyes and Harry resigned to his seat on the floor. He took another sip of his drink, watched as she started to pace the tiny room.
“Should we bang on the door?” He asked, sensing her anxiety growing with each second.
“Knock yourself out,” she motioned to it.
He reached up, pounded against the wood four times and shouted: “can anyone hear me?”
Nothing--but Harry couldn’t tell if he wanted anyone to come to their rescue. She was angry and upset but this was the most they’d talked in years. He felt pathetic and hopeful all at once when she sat down again.
“Vodka?” He pushed his cup towards her, “kind of gross and not enough juice thanks to Jessie. Adam’s a better bartender.”
She took it and tipped it back, Harry watched as she finished what was left before she put it on the floor in between them and let out a sigh.
He laughed. “Thanks--was, uh, hoping to have at least some.”
“Oh piss off, I declared my teenage love for you. I think you owe me one.”
He laughed at that, tossing the cup into the bin across the small room. He thought back to certain moments, times when maybe he should have realized there was something there.
The way she didn’t seem thrilled about their record deal, the comments about how infrequently he came home, the way she responded less and less in the group chat over the years and how unimpressed she seemed with his fame.
He was about to ask her when it changed--when she stopped having feelings for him if she was presently using the past tense--but she turned around to look at the radiator.
“Is this thing broken? I’m sweltering.”
“Yeah--s’like a Texas summer in here.”
“Right,” she said, her fingers moving to the front of her blouse. “You’ve been there.”
He watched as she unbuttoned not one, not two, but each button, one after another until the skin of her belly was visible between the two sides of green fabric.
“What are you doing?”
“S’hot--too hot.”
“Oh.”
He gulped back whatever sudden arousal coursed through him, blinked a few times and looked away to avoid any heat rising to his cheeks--or anywhere else for that matter.
“I’m probably the last girl you’d expect to see without a shirt, right?”
“What do you mean?” He asked, a smirk pulled out the dimple in his left cheek. He’d never admit it, but Y/N was the first girl he ever dreamt about like that. Year 6--right after they’d all eaten pizza at Jessie’s house for her birthday.
“Dunno,” she leaned her head to the side, the corner of her mouth inching upwards as she seemed to come around. “Don’t do that.”
“Do what?” He laughed, leaning forward to poke her playfully.
“The cute smile thing.”
“Can’t help it,” he shrugged, the first bit of honesty all night: “you bring it out of me.”
She watched him for a second, Harry did everything in his power to not let his eyes flicker to her lips, he knew they’d taste like honey and he couldn’t bear to think about it in such a small space, the dark fabric of her bra stark contrast to her pale skin.
“Why’d you show up tonight, anyway?” she tucked a piece of hair behind her ear.
“Was hoping to see everyone--I meant it when I said I missed you.”
“Hm,” She closed her eyes and leaned her head back against the wall. Had he said the wrong thing? A moment of silence before she pointed to the door. “Try it again.”
He pulled at it once more but it didn’t give. Her eyes were open when he turned around to see her, brows lifted north like she knew he liked the sight of her.
“If I’m locked in a bathroom with anyone, m’glad s’you.”
She didn’t roll her eyes, instead she kept her gaze on him and let out a scoff. “Right.”
“Really--could have been Nina Victor.” He faked a shiver at the thought.
“Well, ditto.”
A pause, she looked away and then back at him. Harry wondered if there was anything he could say to make it right: I’m sorry, I suck, I hope you can forgive me, I think I maybe like you? She shifted on the floor and then it was quick.
Harry felt her lips against his and a thousand questions flooded his brain when he tasted her--how drunk was she? Did she even know what she was doing? Would she regret this in the morning? Is this the rebound Jake had joked about?
As badly as he wanted to let it happen, he brought his hands to her shoulders and gently pushed her away. “Smalls, I just--I don’t--”
“I know,” she said, slumping away from him, “it’s not like that.”
“No, I just don’t think--”
“S’fine, Harry,” she pushed herself back into the wall and Harry watched as her face twisted into sadness. “You don’t have to explain it. I get it--there’s lots of girls for you, and I’m just the one who got left behind when you got too fucking famous for us, right?”
“S’not what I’m saying--you’re not even listening to me Smalls, I’d rather kiss you--”
“Oh God,” she said, scrambling to find the toilet as she got sick and pushed hair out of her face.
Harry grimaced, questions answered: she was really drunk, she probably didn’t know what she was doing, and she very well might regret this in the morning.
He moved closer to her and put a hand on her back, “You’re okay--”
“Don’t touch me,” she cried, twisting beneath his touch to add space between them.
But again--what had he done? Harry watched as she wiped the tears on her face, mascara smudging on her cheeks as she clambered to find her blouse she’d left on the floor. He was frozen, desperately wanting to help but completely unsure what to say or do to make her take a deep breath and relax, and maybe, if he was lucky, hear him out.
“Y/N, are you okay? Why are you crying?”
“I’m fine!” she yelled at him, reaching to flush the toilet and pull her shirt back on in one quick motion. “I’m stupid and drunk and you need to forget everything I’ve said and we can’t ever speak of this, okay? Don’t even talk to me--just go back to London or LA and don’t ever speak to me again.”
“Whoa, Y/N,” he put out both hands to motion for her to slow down. Not speak to her? Ever again? He couldn’t follow her line of thinking.
“Don’t--okay? I shouldn’t have kissed you and I’m drunk and I’m disgusting,” the words were slurred into one run-on, mess of syllables.
Harry was frozen again, shoulders slumped when she buttoned up her shirt and let out shaky breaths. He was about to tell her, admit that she wasn’t crazy and he wanted to kiss her but not like this--not drunk in Kenny Tilley’s bathroom with a bunch of drunk idiots on the other side of the wall.
The door pushed open and the lights got switched on, Bryn’s eyes were wide when she saw Y/N huddled in the corner of the room and Harry on his knees. “What happened? What are you doing?”
“I just--we were stuck in here--and she,” he sputtered out the words, endless sentences with no finish lines.
“Just get out, Harry,” she cried again. He looked to Bryn for some kind of backup or advice on how to make her just calm down.
“Y/N, hold on, just wait, I think--”
“No, Harry, alright? I shouldn’t have said it and now I look even more like an idiot.”
“Smalls, you need to calm down.”
He reached a hand forward to touch her, but she shimmied away and looked up at him before speaking through another sob. “Don’t you have more famous friends to hang out with?”
“Harry, just go, I’ve got it,” Bryn pleaded from behind him. He turned to look at her over his shoulder, forehead wrinkled. “Bryn,” he started.
“Go,” she whispered, a hand on his shoulder to push him out into the hallway. Jake was there, Adam and Jessie arrived quickly behind him, all of their eyes wide at the sight of the commotion.
“Don’t crowd the bathroom, yeah? Give her some fucking space,” Harry barked at them, his feet carried him towards the back porch off the kitchen. Fuming really, angry that what could have been an exciting moment got twisted into something dramatic and stupid and sloppy.
“What on earth did you do?!” Jessie’s tone was accusatory, Harry spun on his heels when Adam pulled the door shut to seal off the party inside. Quiet, cold air, late December hung over the tops of suburban trees.
“What did I do?” He pointed at his own chest incredulously. “Nothing--I didn’t do a fucking thing! We got stuck in there and we were talking and we’re drunk obviously and she said she used to have feelings for me and then she kissed me but then I pushed her off--”
“You pushed her off?!” Jessie scoffed, confused by his words. “Why the fuck did you do that you twat?”
“Because I didn’t want this to happen! If I finally get to kiss her I don’t want it to be when we’re smashed at some stupid party--”
“Wait--what do you mean finally?” Jessie’s voice was less angry now, her lips parted as she waited for an answer. “Do you still like her, Harry? Do you have feelings for Y/N?”
Harry let out a groan, his breath was visible in the night air and he shoved his hands in his pockets. “Yes--no--I don’t know. She just told me to never speak to her again so I can’t really answer that right now.”
Jake’s lips were in a thin line, Jessie turned to see him and then turned to Adam. Their silence was telling.
“Did you know he still has feelings for her?”
Adam shrugged, clinging to innocence. “Well, we told him that Charlie dumped her because we thought, you know--”
Jessie groaned and waved him off. “Of course I know, I was also hoping that it would finally happen.”
“Wait,” Harry turned to Jessie. “You knew she had feelings for me?”
Jessie froze, uncertain what to divulge. Y/N was heartbroken over Charlie, Jessie had been wiping her tears all week--but that didn’t change the fact that Y/N had been in love with Harry for years and now suddenly everyone was on the same page.
Jessie turned to the boys, almost looking for permission to answer Harry’s question. Jake, with a cigarette between his lips, shrugged. “Cat’s outta the fuckin’ bag now, yeah?”
This shocked Harry, sent his heart rate soaring higher than it had been. “You all knew? Everyone knew and no one told me?”
“Guilty,” Jessie offered a pleading smile. “But what were we supposed to do, Harry? You’re jet setting around the world and we’ve been sitting here going to class and getting jobs.”
“When did you find out?”
“That she liked you?”
He nodded, tried to focus on his breathing and ignore the thumping bass line that still managed to seep through the door.
“When you left, years ago, Harry--she was pretty upset. Bryn and I always kind of knew but then she finally admitted it to the boys, too, once you were gone.”
Harry looked at all three of them. Jessie--the biggest mouth of all time and yet she’d managed to keep it shut for five years. Adam--a people pleaser, a solutions guy, someone who should have easily been able to craft a way to get both Y/N and Harry on the same page. And Jake--one of the funniest, most thoughtful and caring people Harry knew.
“Why did no one tell me?”
“She would have murdered us, mate!” Jake shrugged. “And what would that have done? You’ve been gone.”
“When am I going to stop getting shit about it? It’s my job! You’ve all got degrees and flats of your own and I’m left here now with no fucking band, no fucking plan, and now I find out that I’ve wasted years thinking this Charlie guy was actually a threat.”
Jessie pulled back at the emotion in his voice. “You can talk to her in the morning, Harry--”
“No I can’t,” he waved her off, angry and loud as Jake flicked the cigarette. “I fucked it up and it’s too late and now she fucking hates me. I’ve never seen her so angry or upset.”
“She’ll calm down,” Adam reassured.
“No--it’s not--it’s not meant to be, yeah? Would have worked by now if it were, right?”
Harry nodded to himself, hoping that if he said the words aloud he’d have to believe them. Jake and Adam paused, Jessie’s lips turned into a frown.
“You can’t tell her I told you what she said--we can’t--we can’t ever speak of this.”
“Harry--”
“No, Jessie--just leave it, okay? None of this ever happened, that’s what she wants. I missed my chance.”
“Okay,” Adam shrugged.
“Okay,” Jake agreed.
Jessie waited, she eyed each of them, wondering when she should stop trying to play God. Maybe now was a good time. “Okay,” she agreed. “Fine.”
**
You looked at him, lips parted in shock at the details he’d kept to himself.
For all these years you assumed he ran outside and told them all of the things you said: how you cried, how you yelled, how you threw up and made a complete fool of yourself all because of a stupid crush you still weren’t over.
The surprise on your face left Harry to offer you a hesitant smile. “What?”
You cleared your throat, looked down at the glass of wine and wondered when someone else would show up to save you from the emotion that now seemed to course through your veins.
“Nothing--I guess I just figured you would have told them all the gory details and spared me no dignity.”
He frowned at that, still somewhat amused by your confession. “S’not really my style.”
You sat with that for a second, thoughts racing as you absorbed the new version of the same story.
You got too drunk, embarrassed yourself in front of Harry, and he didn’t tell the entire friend group about what a knob you’d been. He kept it to himself, he didn’t repeat everything you’d said.
Maybe that’s why it took Bryn and Jessie so long to put all of the pieces together. For weeks they kept saying: it’s not a big deal, so what? You admitted your feelings, it’s fine.
It was fine because they didn’t know all the nitty gritty. This realization left your mouth dry, you reached for the wine and met Harry’s gaze again.
“I would never do something to hurt you on purpose.”
You nodded, deep down you knew it was true.
But the doorbell rang, pulling him away from the island and into the foyer to greet whoever was at the door. You’d know them, undoubtedly. You smiled and greeted his friends and ignored the pit that seemed to grow in your stomach.
Maybe Adam was right. Sure--Harry struggled with words sometimes and everyone in your friend group had their moments where honesty lacked. But Harry had covered for you that night, just like three weeks earlier at Roman’s.
He told Jessie and Jake and Adam to not bring it up, he didn’t laugh at you or make fun of you and--at the end of the day--he did exactly what you asked of him.
He gave you space: two years of it.
When the rest of the gang arrived, Bryn sensed the heaviness in the house that used to feel like home. After she paraded Briony around and introduced her to the six of you, she tugged you into a corner and lowered her voice.
“What’s up? You seem depressed.”
“I’m alright,” you waved her off. Depressed? Felt strong. Sad because your whole world continued to implode and crumble around you? More accurate.
She and Jessie both knew something was up. While you didn’t have the heart to tell them about the diamond-related detail Adam disclosed a few weeks ago, they weren’t stupid, so they tried to piece it all together and fill in the blanks on their own.
Dinner with them a few nights ago: did he confess his love? Tell you he never wants to see you again? Did he give you another box of your things?
No, no, no. You promised them you were fine and just busy at work, nervous about the release party, admitted that going into the holiday season was more upsetting without him by your side.
In new Jessie and Bryn fashion they left you alone, stopped begging for answers and promised: we’re here if you need us.
Apparently a glass of wine and a social gathering made them more pushy.
“Alright,” Jessie sighed when she slung an arm around your shoulders. Briony had just finished telling a hilarious story about the first time Bryn slept over and walked straight into the wall in the middle of the night.
“What gives, Y/N?”
“Nothing,” you laughed it off, felt heat rush to your cheeks when they all gave you a knowing look. Even Briony seemed hesitant to take your words at face value.
“Bullshit,” Bryn said. “You were the first one here out of all of us, you’ve barely even mentioned you know who since your wild night out.”
“Wild night out?” The piqued Briony’s interest.
“Oh, yeah, babe, didn’t I tell you that Y/N got sick outside a club on a Thursday night a few weeks ago?”
“Sounds thrilling,” she smiled.
“It was a rough night,” you admitted.
“Everything’s been rough lately,” Jessie borrowed your word. “But I’m not buying it.”
“Jess--”
“No,” she shook her head. “This isn’t me prying, this isn’t me being nosy. This is me giving a shit. You’re not yourself.”
When Bryn didn’t say anything, you knew you were caught. You let out a deep exhale, nodded a little bit and scanned all three of their faces.
“As you so kindly pointed out, I was the first one here this evening. Someone told me the party started at eight, so I showed up at 8:30 hoping to be fashionably late.”
“And it started at nine,” Bryn nodded. “You have Jake to thank for that.”
“I might murder him,” you said seriously. “But--aside from Jake being a wanker. I, uh--I asked Harry about the night at Kenny Tilley’s.”
Jessie’s head tilted to the side and Bryn’s eyes grew round in anticipation.
“I didn’t know that he never told you what really happened.”
Jessie’s chin stuck out in question. “What do you mean what really happened?”
“I always assumed he told you all that I was crying and that I threw up and that I basically called him a terrible person and a shit friend and--yeah. I thought he turned around and told you all of the gory details.”
Bryn smiled a little, a tiny laugh when she reached forward to pat you on the arm. “You’re the one who told us all the gory details. Had to piece it together over time, though.”
“Yeah,” Jessie said. “For the first few months we thought you just said you liked him, I mean, that’s what Harry told me on the deck that night.”
Bryn nodded. “And I knew you were crying cause I walked in, but Harry never really told us anything. Just said you didn’t want to talk to him.”
You let out a sigh, the guilt only rising like high tide when they confirmed: Harry hadn’t been as much of a twat as you’d been telling yourself. Blaming him, being angry at him allowed you to build the wall between you. It was easier to be angry at him than at yourself.
“Well, I was pretty hard on him that night. Pretty sure I said he ruined my life. Guess I just thought that he would have made me out to be the bad guy or, I dunno, tell how you stupid I was.”
They both let the new detail settle. Ruin your life? That’s a big accusation.
“Wait,” Jessie said. “You thought Harry turned around and, like, made fun of you? Or called you a twat or something?”
“I would have made fun of me,” you shrugged, an embarrassed smile crept onto your face.
“Y/N,” she sighed. “He’s never done that. He’s never said anything about that night, he wasn’t running around telling your secrets or putting you on blast.”
“I love you, with my whole heart,” Bryn nodded, stifling a laugh. “But you can be incredibly stupid sometimes.”
This pulled a giggle from you, a pathetic one at best.
“We’re not normally this dramatic,” you said to Briony, trying to downplay the conversation she’d just witnessed.
“What?” Jessie let out a cackle. “Yes we are. We’re always this dramatic.”
“Well, we’re working on it,” you shrugged.
“We are,” she agreed, raising her wine glass to clink against yours. “To being honest and butting out.”
Jessie gave you a hug, did as she said and let you be for a while as you sipped your drink and wandered about the living room. Harry’s work friends, a few people you’d met visiting him on tour--they all mingled about over cheese and crackers and offered smiles when you offered sideways hugs in greeting.
It felt mostly normal, every now and then you’d glance at him across the room, wishing things were different but knowing they might not ever be.
It wasn’t until you bumped into one of his makeup artists that you were forced to address the proverbial elephant in the room.
“You’ll be coming on the road, right? At least for some visits, yeah?” She smiled at you genuinely, pink lipstick that you could never pull off.
“Oh--probably just the London shows--maybe. We, uh, we broke up actually.”
Her face fell, a mix of awkward and apologetic. “Oh, Jesus, Y/N, I’m so sorry. He didn’t mention that.”
“Oh, it’s fine,” you waved her off. “Not a big deal.”
Hadn’t mentioned it? Did she not read Page Six? You nodded along when she changed the subject, finished your glass of wine and fetched another. Jake was busy flirting with one of the girls in his band, Bryn and Briony were busy chatting with Harry in the kitchen. Jessie swiped through something on her phone and laughed when Adam said something about that one night in Year 8.
So you were alone. Awkward and isolated as you looked around the foyer, wondering if anyone would notice if you dipped upstairs to use the bathroom. A few girls off to your left, the ones that typically made you insecure at events like these.
The coast seemed clear enough--and your bladder was certainly full enough.
You hiked up the stairs in your stupid heels and hoped that you didn’t look suspicious. You found the bathroom in the hall near the guest room and executed your mission successfully, but once you dried your hands on the hand towel you’d bought at TK Maxx, you couldn’t help but be curious about what other traces of you were still in his house.
Perhaps you wouldn’t have done it without the three glasses of wine, or maybe you would have. But you twisted the knob quietly and shut the door behind you once you dipped inside.
You found the light switch and flipped it up, eyes scanning the room that, for the most part, looked exactly the same as the last time you’d seen it. His bed was in the same place, the same lamps were on the nightstands. The photobooth strips were gone from the edges of the mirror, kisses to your face when you sat on his lap at his bandmates’ birthday. Your iPhone charger was missing from your side of the bed, you knew your drawer in the dresser was empty.
But, the box you’d kept your jewelry in was in the same spot on the dresser.
You let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding, padded over and opened the lid. You hadn’t expected it, but inside in the top corner sat the gold bracelet you’d unclipped hastily from your wrist in his driveway and dropped inside the box of his things.
Your stomach sank at the sight of it, a memory of what was and who you were, now abandoned and shut away so he wouldn’t have to see it. What had he done? Gone through the box of his things and put them all away?
Did he leave it on the floor near his front door for a week like you did? Hoping that ignoring it would make it all disappear?
You imagined him, putting every item of clothing back into his closet, putting the books back on his shelf and then--at the very bottom--picking up the bracelet and not knowing what to do with it.
Give it to someone else? Rude, also weird. Sell it? He didn’t need the money. Throw it away? He was too sentimental. So he’d settled, you assumed, with tucking it away and out of sight until he figured out a better solution.
The gold was cool against your wrist when you clasped it into place, still lost in reverie when the door pushed open.
“Hey,” Bryn’s voice pulled you back down to earth. You turned around so quickly you hit your hip on the dresser and bent over in pain.
“Jesus fucking Christ,” you bit out, rubbing the fabric of your dress. “Hi--”
“What are you doing up here?” She came inside and shut the door.
“Not snooping,” you lied.
She rolled her eyes, “try again.”
“I went pee cause someone was in the bathroom downstairs and I didn’t feel like waiting.”
“Ah,” she nodded. “Implementing your ex-girlfriend privilege.”
Her eyes trailed down to your wrist, you tucked it behind your back when you noticed.
“Is that your bracelet?” She came over and reached for your arm, tugging it forward to see. “Where was it?”
“In the jewelry box,” you pointed. “It looked so sad tangled up in the corner.”
“Honestly--m’surprised he kept it.”
“Me too,” you said.
“You can’t just take it back, though, Y/N.”
“Why not?”
She stepped away and looked at you like you’d gone mad. “Because he literally watched you take it off your wrist and throw it in the box like you were having a tantrum.”
You waited for her to say more, eyebrows raised as if to say and…?
“Meaning he’ll know you came in here and took it if he sees you wearing it.”
“He’ll never even notice, Bryn.”
She looked around the room and shook her head. “You’re mental, truly. You’re going to steal back the gift he gave you for your birthday that you gave back to him when you broke up?”
You lifted your wrist, held it between you in the air and shook it. “Yep.”
She sighed. “Can we at least leave before he finds us up here, then?”
“Fine,” you sighed, shutting the lid to the jewelry box and following her over to the door.
It pushed open though, Jake was on the other side with brows knit together and a quiet voice. “What are you two doing up here?”
“Nothing,” you said quickly, arms crossed in defense.
“Y/N’s stealing back her things.”
“Thanks, Bryn.”
“I thought we were being honest now!”
You rolled your eyes at her. You hadn’t meant for your honesty campaign to come back and bite you in the arse so frequently.
“You’re stealing?” Jake’s eyebrows arched, impressed.
“It was a gift!” You held up your wrist to show him the bracelet, offended by their accusations.
“However you got it, I feel like snooping around Harry’s room isn’t a great look.”
You sighed and knew he was right, let Bryn drag you back to the hallway after shutting the door to his room. Jake turned the corner and, of course, thanks to the wine and your karma, Harry had just ascended the stairs with a petite brunette in tow.
“Hi,” he looked confused, eyes scanning over the three of you as they slowed to a stop. “Everything okay?”
“Fine,” Bryn said with an innocent smile. “Just had to use the bathroom.”
“All three of you?” Harry tilted his head to the side, suspicion written on his face when his eyes landed on you.
“Yep,” you said, a quick nod to play it off. Distraction: “Hi,” you stuck out a hand to the girl by his side, hoping to seem calm and collected. “I’m Y/N.”
“Uh, right,” Harry motioned. “This is Ruth.”
“Hi,” Bryn and Jake both greeted flatly, unimpressed. She mumbled out a greeting but you ignored her.
“Sorry, there was a line downstairs,” you explained, an awkward laugh when he nodded.
“Got it, s’why we’re up here too.”
“Right, okay,” you nodded, pushing Bryn into motion and towards the stairs. Harry was about to let it go, pointing down the hall to show Ruth where to find the loo.
“Hey, Y/N?” He looked over his shoulder, a sly smile decorated his lips.
“Yeah?” You turned quickly, stomach in a knot when your eyes locked on his.
“Nice bracelet. S’beautiful.”
Jake and Bryn were silent, you hid your wrist behind your back. He wasn’t angry, his eyes were soft and forgiving, Ruth shut the door and all you could mumble was thanks.
**
Briony didn’t know you well, seeing as she’d been dating Bryn for a total of four weeks. So perhaps she was the one you felt most embarrassed in front of as Jessie’s jaw almost hit the floor.
“He noticed it?”
“Of course he noticed it,” Bryn scoffed. “He bought it.”
“Where is he now?” Adam asked, his voice low enough to avoid letting anyone overhear your conversation. The party had thinned out after midnight, Harry made trips to and from the door as he said goodbye to his guests.
You were sat at the kitchen counter now, having poured another glass of wine after your run in with crime. Jake’s arms were crossed over his chest and Bryn still managed to deliver disapproving looks even with her arms wrapped around Briony’s waist.
“Probably with Ruth,” you raised the pitch of your voice to mock, Jessie let out an eye roll.
“Don’t take it out on Ruth.”
“Who even is Ruth?!” You whispered at her, shoulders rising up to your ears from tension.
“She’s friends with his cousin or something, I don’t know. She’s not a threat,” Jessie reassured, a wave of her hand to really sell it.
“Sure--he’s probably already sleeping with her and you guys are finally minding your business so you won’t tell me.”
They all had a reaction to that, minus Briony.
“Alright, maybe you should go home, Smalls.”
You looked at Jake like he was mental. “Go home?” You asked. “I’m not drunk!”
“No, but, you don’t seem to be having a good night.”
His observation made your stomach drop, the fear started rushing in before you could stop the question from tumbling out of your mouth. “Is he seeing someone?”
“No,” Bryn groaned. “You’re getting paranoid, Y/N.”
“Why should I believe any of you?”
Jessie rolled her eyes and sighed. “Y/N, do you hear yourself?”
“I do! And I think it’s a fair question since none of you have the most honest track record.”
“We’ve never kept things from you to hurt you, Smalls,” Jake was bothered now, his face twisted into an expression of frustration. “You act like we’re pathological liars.”
“Well you’re not pathological truthers,” you grimaced at how stupid you sounded and sipped at your wine.
“You’ve done a lot of finger pointing lately, you know.”
A sarcastic and snarky tone: “have I?”
“You have,” Jake nodded. “And not for nothing, Y/N--” the use of your real name signaled his anger, “--but you haven’t even looked in the mirror. You’re so quick to call us liars that you haven’t even entertained the fact that you’ve got incredible trust issues and sabotaged your own relationship because of it.”
“Okay,” Jessie put a hand up to his chest in an attempt to calm him down. He let out a huff and shrugged away from her, heading for Harry’s back garden. Adam followed him out but squeezed your shoulder as he passed, a mediocre attempt at apologizing on Jake’s behalf.
Bryn clapped her hands together, “alright, well, love you both, but we’re probably going to head out on that note.” She came to hug you, kissed your head and said: he’ll calm down.
You offered Briony an apologetic smile in farewell and watched them head for the foyer to find their coats, Jessie pulled up a stool next to you and sighed.
“I’m an idiot,” you said quietly, shoulders slumped as you traced the stem of your wine glass with your pointer finger.
She was quiet for a second, put her elbows on the granite and said: “you’re a lovable idiot,” before resting her head on your shoulder.
You let out a huff of air, cheeks flushed as tears welled in your eyes. You could hear his laugh in the living room, a few other voices still lagged behind at the end of the night. Your skin felt prickly, sticky with heat and emotion that threatened to spill over when you stood abruptly.
“I’m gonna go to the loo, yeah?”
Jessie squeezed your hand but nodded, a knowing look on her freckled face. She let you slip up the stairs without another word and lock the door of the half-bath behind you.
Jake’s words stung, but what seemed to weave through your ribs and hurt the most was the fact that he was right.
Harry didn’t communicate well and Bryn didn’t rush to honesty. Adam never wanted to get in the middle and Jessie had too many opinions.
And you--standing beside the stupid TK Maxx towels--had trust issues that lurked behind every corner. You’d been so quick to get upset with them for all of their wrongdoings that you hadn’t bothered to consider your own missteps and the effect that they had.
You heard the front door open and shut, hoped it was Ruth heading out and that you’d never have to see her again. Petty and stupid and immature, you wiped your eyes and cursed yourself for always realizing things too late.
Harry had fucked up and Jessie had fucked up and so had you. Perhaps the crumbling of your relationship wasn’t a direct result of any one lie or event, but a culmination of each of your faults.
A puzzle of fuck ups and mistakes that came together in an untimely fashion. Maybe you were also to blame.
The door latched into place and the noise echoed in the hallway when you decided it was time to call it a night. A few people still lounged in the living room, two of Harry’s bandmates you’d gotten to know well over the last two years. You didn’t hear Jessie--not even Jake--as you descended the stairs and rounded into the kitchen.
Harry stood at the sink, a wine glass in his hand after he rinsed it and tucked it into his dishwasher.
“Where’s Jess?”
He turned at the sound of your voice, an unreadable expression on his face. “She just left, with Jake and Adam,” he pointed a finger towards the door and waited for a reaction.
“They left me here? They left me at your house?”
“Jake was annoyed--dunny why. I told them I’d bring you home,” he said quietly, suddenly aware of the emotion in your voice.
You took an unsteady breath, closed your eyes for a second but nodded in defeat. “Okay.”
This seemed to catch him by surprise. He blinked a few times, lips pushed out as if he expected you to change your mind. He cleared his throat and scratched at the back of his neck. “Uh--actually, I asked them to let me bring you home. Jessie didn’t want to leave you, but I asked her to.”
Your eyes trailed up to his, the truth hung in the air between you and for a second, you wondered if he’d take it back.
“Why?”
He shrugged a shoulder and the corner of his mouth pulled towards the ceiling. “Kind of wanted to get the bracelet back.”
“You’re a twat,” you let out a small giggle, the tension immediately broken. You could see him relax at that, unaware until that moment of how much power you held over him.
He was quiet for a second, held your gaze until you shifted on your feet and looked at the clock above his stove. “D’you want a ride?”
“Yeah, sure, thanks.”
He nodded, found his keys and said goodbye to the few friends that still hung around. You climbed into the passenger seat and remembered the last time you’d been here.
November, some leaves still lingered on trees when he’d offered to get Thai. Now, the approaching holidays seemed to hover in the backseat when he asked:
“So, are you going home soon?”
“Yeah,” you nodded, albeit a bit awkwardly. “Probably around the 21st, I think. Are you?”
“Yeah,” he confirmed. “I’ve got some promo stuff in LA when the album comes out, then some back here--but I’ll probably come up there right before Christmas.”
Quiet for a second, you thought about the trips you’d taken together, first class, fancy bathtubs, the private clubs he got to wait in at the airports.
Your own demons lurked nearby, right beside the threat of the holiday season. Trust issues, paranoia, anxiety, impulsive decisions. They mocked you and reminded you of the ghosts of relationships past when he stole a glance in your direction.
“Y’alright?”
“Yeah,” you said, looking over to him. Should you say it? Push the words up and out before they could root themselves any stronger in your gut? “How, uh--how are you doing?”
His right hand rested on the gear change, a tiny smirk when he repeated your question. “How am I doing?”
You nodded quickly.
“I’m doing alright,” he said. “How are you doing?”
“Good,” you said quickly, though it wasn’t the truth. He knew this, peered over quickly when the smirk had become a full blown smile. “What?”
“Nothing,” he shrugged. “You seem...off tonight.”
“Ruth was nice.”
“Ruth?”
“That was her name, right?”
“She’s a friend of a friend,” he told you.
“You don’t have to explain,” you said.
“Smalls--are you alright?”
“Mhm.”
He let out a sigh, turned left onto your street and then let out a small laugh when you unbuckled, hand on the door like you were ready to tuck and roll. He pulled to a stop, put the car in park when he turned to you.
“Thanks for the ride,” you said, opening the door.
“Y/N?”
You turned over your shoulder to see him, his features illuminated by the glow from the display in his car. “Yeah?”
You were halfway out the door, one foot on the wet pavement outside your flat when he said: “You could have just asked for the bracelet back.”
join the tag list here | talk to me | the playlist
AN: WOW. Okay I think this is seriously my favorite chapter. I knew from the start of this sequel that one of the biggest moments would be December 29th but from H's POV. This was so fun to write and SO MUCH HAPPENED in this chapter between EVERYONE!!!! Would love to hear your thoughts! Thank you as always for reading!
tag list:
@thurhomish @styles217 @ursamajor603 @mleestiles @determined-overthinker @g0bl1nqueen @sing-me-a-song-harry @hsfics @rubytersteege @unknown7549 @harryspirate @havinaballinthisbitch @annesauriol @tenaciousperfectionunknown @fuck-w-mo @15christyxoxo @dontgiveupthedayjob @daydreamlife4me @msolbesg @somanyfandomsbruh @c-h-e-r-r-y-lips @foreverandaday-1 @mackenzmeme @permanentllyharry @greeneyesandtea @harrysdimple05 @rainbowbutterflyboy @cronias13 @theresnooneheretosave
#tstt#tytl#idkthisisjustforfanfic#harry styles fanfic#harry styles fiction#harry styles ou#harry styles reader insert#harry styles x reader#harry styles x yn#harry styles x y/n#harry styles fan fiction
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too soon to tell, chapter t h r e e
You called Harry three times that afternoon to tell him you declined the job offer. He didn’t pick up.
Eventually he replied to your call me please text.
Harry S (3:21pm): Can’t talk on the phone, sorry. What’s up?
Y/N L/N (3:22pm): I emailed the people at E! and told them I’m not taking the job.
Harry S (3:22pm): Oh
Harry S (3:22pm): Okay, thanks for letting me know. Can we talk about it later? I’ll be home tonight if you want to stay at mine?
Harry S (3:23): Flight lands at 11:30pm
Y/N L/N (3:23)pm: Sure
Harry S (3L24pm): Have fun at Jake's birthday tonight
You were less than satisfied with his reaction and response to the news, so by that evening--when you were sat in the living room of Jessie’s new flat and already regretting your choice of shoes--you only partially wished he was there.
“What’s got you so quiet?” Bryn asked from the doorway to Jessie’s bedroom. She held up two shirts, contemplating which to tug on.
“M’just tired.”
“Busy week, though, right? Finally met with America’s Next Top Model,” Jessie joked.
“Have you seen her? She’s not next,” Bryn corrected. “She’s it.”
“She was really nice,” you repeated what you’d already told them. “It went a lot better than I thought.”
“Did Harry have a thousand questions?” Jessie capped her mascara and then switched off the light in the bathroom. She came to sit near you on the couch.
“Not really--I mean, I told him it went well and that everything was rather tame.”
Bryn picked a fuzz off of the shirt she borrowed and looked in the mirror. “He was obviously just worried that she’d repeat negative things Zayn’s said about them, or the band or whatever.”
“Right,” you rolled your eyes. That was always where Harry’s head was at: work. Instead of seeing how huge of an opportunity this was for you, he focused on the things that could go wrong for him.
The growing distance between you was something you’d share with your best friends, right? Something you’d seek advice around or just even complain about over a cuppa or a cocktail. But with Bryn and Jessie and Harry and Jake and Adam, it wasn’t that simple.
You weren’t afforded the same luxury as a girl with a separate friend group from her boyfriend’s--you weren’t able to say how strange things felt unless you wanted to deal with the backlash: they’d all freak out, everyone would get awkward, people would feel like they had to pick sides. You wanted to avoid that at all costs.
You tried to push the thoughts out of your head, crammed into the back of a cab and finally found Jake and Adam inside the club with a few other uni friends. By the time you started questioning how rude and unsanitary it would be to take off your heels, Jessie squealed.
“Oh!” she perked up quickly, eyeing a text on her phone. “I forgot to mention that my coworker Jade is coming tonight, you’ll love her, she’s great. She just said she’s here,” she started scanning the crowd for her friend.
“How great?” Bryn wiggles her eyes in a suggestive manner, pulling a laugh from both of you.
“She’s fit--no clue who likes to sleep with though,” Jessie eyed Bryn. “You’ll have to battle Jake for her if you like her.”
“Jake always gets the cute girls,” Bryn let out a whine, you rolled your eyes and sipped at the vodka drink in hand before patting her on the shoulder.
“Only if they’re straight.”
“Right, which is always, lately.”
“Hi!” Jessie greeted, her arms wrapped around her new coworker when she made her way through the crowd. “Guys, this is Jade,” she tugged her into your circle.
“Hi,” Bryn said, a smile in the new girl’s direction. Long brown hair, darker skin, beautiful gold eye shadow. Bryn was smitten before you could even extend your hand in greeting.
“Hi, I’m Y/N.”
“Jade,” she nodded, “nice to meet both of you. I’ve heard a lot from Jessie--is the birthday boy here? Should I say hi before I get a drink?”
“Oh, he’s somewhere,” Jessie waved. “Go grab something and I’m sure he’ll turn up by the time you return.”
“Great, I’ll be back,” she waved at all three of you over her shoulder, disappearing into the crowd of bodies to head for the bar that was hidden somewhere behind the fog machine and flashing lights.
Bryn immediately grabbed Jessie’s elbow. “Are you kidding?” she said through gritted teeth. “She’s not fit--she’s incredibly fucking attractive and you didn’t think to give me a head’s up? I would have worn something more revealing.”
“Ouch,” Jessie tugged away from Bryn’s clutch and rubbed at the point of contact. “Relax--I told you, I have no idea if she’s gay.”
“Who’s gay?” Jake’s head was suddenly beside yours, Adam nudged his way in and draped an arm around Bryn’s shoulders.
“Aside from our lovely pal, here.”
“Why am I always the token lesbian?” she made a face at him.
Jake looked at you with confusion and then back to Bryn. “Because you’re the only gay one.”
“And thank God for that,” Bryn didn't miss a beat. “None of you are cool enough to be a lesbian.”
“I still don’t know who we were actually talking about,” Jake reminded.
“My coworker Jade--she just got here--she works in my department but she’s also still getting her PhD. She’s great but we don’t know if she’s gay.”
“And she’s coming back so everyone act natural,” Bryn rushed through the words, smiled again when Jade rejoined and introduced herself to the boys.
Jake and Adam were pulled away by friends, another round of shots at the bar in celebration. Jake had offered to buy you a drink, but you declined, still keen on watching Bryn try to gather up her cleavage to test Jade.
Besides, Jessie was rehashing her last failed relationship and it felt a bit rude to dip out right when she was getting to the best part of the story.
“He was a terrible human, irresponsible, lazy, going nowhere, honestly. But he had a huge dick--which was great, until he put it in Y/N’s little sister’s best friend.”
Jade let out a laugh at that and you saw Bryn roll her eyes--you’d both hated Oliver and it took Jessie a while to see his true colors.
“How on earth did that transpire?!” Jade asked.
“We were in uni--Katie, that’s Y/N’s sister--had come to town with a friend for Y/N’s birthday and we went to a club and a few drinks later we found them in the loo going at it.”
“We all knew it wouldn’t last but Jessie’s a stubborn one,” Bryn patted your friend on the shoulder.
“He was human garbage,” you agreed.
“Hey,” Jessi pointed a finger at you. “You’re not wrong, but that was the greatest sex I ever had. S’the type of stuff I play in my head late at night,” she wiggled her brows.
“Right,” Jade laughed. “As if that time you drunkenly made out with Harry Styles isn’t plenty of fuel for whatever fire you’re burning.” She lowered her voice when she said his name, looked at you and Bryn without the slightest clue to the weight of her words.
You blinked a few times, sure you’d misheard her over the noise of the dimly lit club. Your ears playing tricks or the vodka already straight to your head. “What?”
Jessie’s face was the brightest shade of red you’d ever seen it, her eyes doubled in size and her lips parted when you looked between the two of them.
“Did you not know that?” Jade giggled, an elbow into your side playfully. “Isn’t that the juiciest thing you’ve ever heard?”
“Yeah,” you nodded, eyes landing back on Jessie. “It is.”
Jade turned to Jessie. “You have a friend from home who’s dating him now, right? Who is she?”
You weren’t trying to be dramatic, you certainly weren't trying to cause a scene. You had no other option than to head for the door to escape the music and the sticky floor and the sweaty bodies.
If anything, you needed fresh air and some water, perhaps to sober up and understand the implication of the words that her new coworker had just muttered with a sly smile.
You felt her grab at your wrist, yanking it out of her hand as you wove through groups of friends. “Don’t follow me,” you said over your shoulder, trying to keep your voice tempered enough to avoid any stares from other patrons.
This was all a part of the curse: now you were well known enough to have someone whip out their cell phone and document any hint of drama if they recognized who you were. That was the last thing you needed in a moment like this.
“Y/N, wait, you don’t even know what she’s talking about.”
“What’s there to know, Jessie?” You spoke over your shoulder, pushing the door open and immediately feeling the relief of the cool air on the sidewalk.
“It’s not as bad as it sounds,” she skid to a halt in front of you.
“Really? Because it sounds like once upon a drunken time you snogged my boyfriend.”
“Well obviously it was ages ago, it’s not like you were together when it happened!”
“Oh, thank God,” you said sarcastically, suddenly unfazed by the volume of your own voice. “Because it’s not like I was in love with him for decades before that.”
Bryn appeared in the night air, arms over her chest as she looked between the two of you with wide eyes. “Alright, everyone calm down--”
“Jessie kissed Harry!” You pointed at your friend’s chest, tone accusatory as you felt tears well in your eyes. "How am I supposed to be calm about that?"
Sure, maybe it was five years ago, ten, maybe even twelve for all you knew. But the reality was this: the boy who you’d been in love with had kissed your smart-mouth best friend before he ever kissed you and somehow along the lines both of them neglected to mention that this had occurred.
Your mind was racing now, breath picking up speed as you turned around on the sidewalk to pace. Is this why Jessie was always so adamantly against you and Harry ending up together? Is this why she got annoyed with you so often in uni when you’d bring him up and why she pushed you to just get over him?
You whipped your head back to Bryn. “Why are you not equally as shocked by this?” She couldn't answer your question before your lips parted in shock. “You knew? You knew that Jessie and Harry--”
"Will you quiet down?" Bryn reached for your arm and tugged with force, causing you to stumble to a stop in front of her. "The last thing you need is for people to overhear you and for there to be headlines all over The Sun tomorrow morning, yeah?"
You let out a grunt of frustration, paced along the concrete again when Bryn tried to speak some sense into you.
A moment of silence before Bryn let out a breath--apparently pleased at her own ability to shut you up. “In her defense, it was a really long time ago and they were both drunk and it was basically meaningless.”
“Basically?!” You whisper-hissed.
“It was meaningless, Y/N,” Jessie nodded, her words pleading. “We were drunk and you had been all upset about--”
“I was upset and that meant you should kiss the boy I was pining over for our entire lives?!” You got louder and more emotional with every word.
“Okay,” Jessie shrugged, her eyes flashing over to Bryn. “Maybe I should go.”
“Maybe you should go,” Bryn nodded in agreement.
“You should both go,” you looked at them quickly, emotions flooding through your brain. Your arms were still crossed, you paced on the sidewalk and unfortunately, the mindless counting of steps did nothing to calm your pounding heartbeat. One, two, three.
Bryn let out a disappointed sigh--you weren’t sure why she thought you’d want her to stay if she’d known and kept another secret from you. Was there no such thing as honesty in this friend group?
They both retreated back inside the club, you contemplated calling Harry and ripping into him. Who cared if he was in the studio or at someone’s house or somewhere on a jet over the Atlantic. You’d barely heard from him over the past few days and now this?
Jake passed Bryn and Jessie on their way in, his eyes curious when he placed an unlit cigarette between his lips. He let the door shut behind them, took a few steps over to lean against the exterior wall of the club and watch you pace. “Do I want to know?”
“No.”
He stifled a laugh, let his smirk turn into a frown when you looked at him with daggers in your eyes. “Okay--let me ask again. Are you alright?”
“No.”
“This will be a lot easier if you just tell me what’s going on--we all know I’m a great listener.”
You ignored his joke and let your shoulders rise towards the sky in exasperation. “Well, as if my relationship wasn’t already on the rocks between Harry’s schedule and my schedule and all the bullshit that happens when you date someone who’s stupid and famous--”
Jake was taken back by the words that bubbled out of you. He held a lighter up to the butt and nodded so you’d continue.
“Come to find out that apparently sweet old Jessie and stupid, stupid Harry got it on once.”
“Got it on?”
You shrugged, maybe you were being dramatic. “Made out.”
“Oh, in 2011? Or 2012?”
“It happened multiple times?!” You took a giant step toward him.
“No! No,” he laughed a little when he pulled away from you. “I just don’t remember the year.”
“Well for fuck’s sake,” you sighed. “Glad to hear everyone knew. You lot are a bunch of liars--pathetic, stupid, ignorant liars.”
He ignored the insults you hurled, likely chalking it up to the alcohol you’d already consumed and the frustration you’d been feeling towards Harry.
“Alright, I’m sure she probably said the same thing and I’m sure you didn’t believe her, but it really was not a big deal. They were drunk, it was stupid. Pretty sure Harry said the next morning it felt like kissing his sister. And he’s never said that about you, for the record.”
You rolled your eyes. Maybe not before. Maybe now he was feeling distant and not attracted to you and maybe now this was just another wedge that was coming between you.
“Why wouldn’t she tell me that? Why would none of you tell me that if it wasn’t a big deal?”
“Maybe because we all wanted to avoid this.”
You shot him a threatening look, to which he only sighed.
“Oh, the tangled web we weave,” his words sounded like they were from an American Soap Opera script--Alyssa had made you watch enough one weekend you’d practically memorized half of the plots. He pulled the cigarette from his mouth and flicked it agains the brick wall.
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
He shrugged a shoulder, the smug look on his face let you know he liked being the one you took drunk advice from. “You’ve known Harry forever, of course there’s going to be weird shit like this that pops up.”
“You say that as if him kissing Jessie is not a big deal.”
Another shrug.
“How is that not a big deal?!” You pressed.
“M’not saying it isn’t, I get how shitty it is that no one told you,” he was defensive now, words a bit slurred. “But don’t you think if there was something between Jessie and Harry, it would have already happened? I mean, come on, Jessie would never wait around like you did.”
“Ouch.”
“I just mean that she’s the most impatient human on the planet. You were extremely patient while Harry figured his shit out,” he tried to soften the blow.
His words stung a little, but you knew he was right. If they were actually interested in each other or if there was some kind of chemistry between them (aside from the way Jessie liked to smack him upside the head when he said something stupid), there was no way Jessie would be able to keep her big mouth shut or not force them into action long before you and Harry wound up the courage to sleep together after all those years.
“Haven’t you ever kissed anyone when you were drunk that you wouldn’t kiss sober?”
You narrowed your eyes at him, displeased with the way he was trying to turn it around. You let out a laugh when he raised his eyebrows at you.
“Everyone in uni, pretty much.”
“Right,” he shrugged. “M’not saying they shouldn’t have told you sooner, but, I don’t think you have anything to worry about.”
**
He’d gotten in late and a text message shortly after Jake talked some sense in you was the only reason you found yourself in an Uber headed for his after midnight.
He opened the door with a tired smile, one arm open wide to tug you into his side.
“You okay?” He looked down at you, eyes scanning your features, clearly aware that you were less than thrilled.
You contemplated holding it in. You figured that being drunk and tired and having not seen him in a few days was maybe not the best time to tell him you knew he kissed your friend and you knew that they all neglected to tell you the truth. Especially right after you just committed to staying in London for him.
“Fine,” you pulled away from him, dropped your jacket on the table in his foyer and kicked off your boots.
He shut the door and watched you hesitantly. “Yeah?”
“I know you kissed Jessie.”
His lips pushed forwards, formed the shape of an ‘o’ as if he’d been caught. He nodded slowly, trying to gauge your reaction as you headed for the couch.
“How’d you find out about that?”
“Jessie’s stupid friend, Jade. But good to know that everyone except for me is aware.”
You sat cross legged on the couch, crossed your arms as if you couldn’t be bothered to look him in the eyes. He stood motionless in the center of the room now, his brain likely flipping through his mental rolodex of apologies.
"Who's Jade?"
"Not the point, Harry!"
“Alright, listen, it was ages ago.”
“Ages?”
“2012, I think,” he waved a hand as if to remind you that it was almost a whole ten years ago.
“And why didn’t I hear about this from you or Jessica herself?”
He sighed and came to sit on the coffee table in front of you, elbows on his knees like he meant business. “Okay, in hindsight, I recognize that telling you probably would have been a good move, but back then I didn’t know that you had feelings for me.”
You let out a huff of air from your nose. His statement was fair--in 2012 you wouldn’t have ever dreamed of telling Harry that you’d been crushing on him since you were a teenager and that his rise to fame was simultaneously crushing your dreams of ending up with him.
In fact, at that point in time, you were almost avoiding Harry so as to ignore the feelings that bubbled inside of you every time you heard his band’s first big single on the radio.
You looked at him, wishing you could believe that he felt as sorry as he appeared, but the anger in your chest wasn’t easy to shake.
“What happened? How did you end up making out with her?”
“I dunno,” he shrugged. “It was some party at Adam’s house after one of our Manchester gigs.”
You blinked a few times, details falling into place. “So everyone was there? I was there? Your band was there?”
He shrugged his shoulders at that, voice softer. “Maybe Niall or Liam. But, yeah, you were there.”
You stood from the couch and started pacing again with your hands on your hips.
“So you mean to tell me that in Adam’s basement--the same one we’ve always partied in--you kissed Jessie Alby and she full on knew that I was into you and you’ve been dating me for,” you looked at a pretend watch on your wrist for dramatic effect, “a year and a half and you never thought it was important to tell me that you’ve hooked up with one of our best friends?”
He bit at his lip, a look of guilt in his eyes when you let out a laugh at his silence.
“Is she in love with you, Harry? Did you ever have feelings for her? Is that why she didn’t want us to get together? What else am I missing if I’m apparently in the dark about everything?!”
“You’re not in the dark about everything!” He stood up now, voice louder as you shook your head.
“Really? Because it seems like lately you’re constantly forgetting to tell me things. Dinners, meetings, trips!”
“You’re the one who didn’t tell me about your stupid cover with Gigi and the job in LA.”
“And you had the audacity to be upset with me about those things when you were sitting on the golden egg of secrets?!”
He rolled his eyes and walked towards the kitchen. “I don’t want to fight with you. You’re drunk.”
“Does that make my feelings invalid, Harry? Does that mean I don’t get to be mad?”
“I didn't say that, Y/N.”
“Well you’re not saying a lot lately. We barely talk and we barely see each other and this isn’t how I expected this to be.”
He reached for a glass above the sink and then moved to fill it. “I’m busy, and you’re busy--and yeah, it might not be as easy as when I wasn’t on tour and wasn’t recording an album and we could basically do whatever we wanted in New York.”
“And now I found out that you made out with Jessie.”
He set the glass down on the counter and turned around to face you. “We were plastered, Y/N! I probably would have made out with Niall!”
“Great, that makes me feel better.”
“We went upstairs to get a drink and then she needed to plug her phone in--I don’t even know how it happened.”
“Did you purposely not tell me that it happened?”
“What do you mean?” He let out an exasperated breath. His hair was pushed back under a hat, a jumper donned his figure and his eyes looked tired from the overseas flight.
“Did you and Jessie agree to not tell me it happened?”
He shrugged, looked around the room as if to avoid your gaze and to avoid the truth. “I mean, I don’t know why she didn’t tell you back then, but--yeah, I mean, when you and I started hanging out in New York and started hooking up, yeah. I told her not to bring it up.”
“So I’m the laughing stock of our friend group?”
“No!” He threw his hands up, clearly confused as to how you got from A to Z so quickly.
“First they all know that I liked you back then and when we were kids, and then they knew eventually that you liked me back but decided to not tell me and lie,” you recounted, lifting a finger for each crime they'd committed.
“You were with Charlie and I told them not to tell you that I liked you,” he tried to reason.
You ignored his explanation and kept talking.
A third finger, “and then I make a fool of myself in 2015 in that stupid bathroom because Jessie decides it would be funny to lock us in there--”
“M’pretty sure that was her attempt at being a matchmaker.”
“And then they keep hanging out with you and lying about it after I said I didn’t want to see you anymore because I was so embarrassed.”
“You’re forgetting the part where we reconnected and fell in love,” he said this like he was bothered by you, constantly trying to have a comeback for your anger-fueled monologue.
“All the while you were lying to me and told our friends to lie to me, too! How am I supposed to know what’s true and what isn’t?”
He pinched the bridge of his nose. “I don’t know.”
“You don’t know?”
“I don’t know,” he said it louder now, angrier and more harsh as he shoved his hands in the pockets of his jumper. “You’re upset and I get it but I don’t think this is that big of a deal because it was years ago. And we’re together and we’re happy.”
“Are we happy? Because I never see you! And when I brought up how hard it is the other night to be your girlfriend, you got annoyed. And you were mad at me for even considering this job in LA.”
“Because I don’t want my girlfriend to move to the other side of the planet!”
“Well I live down the street and barely see you now.”
“I don’t know what you want me to say.”
A shrug of your shoulders. “Maybe this isn’t working.”
He looked up at you, lips parted like he wanted to speak but didn’t know how.
“Maybe this was all just a stupid teenage crush and maybe we should have just left it in New York. Because now neither of us knows how to actually talk to each other and apparently none of us can be honest.”
“That’s not true,” he said, his voice more steady now. “It’s just hard.”
“Well maybe I don’t want hard, Harry. Maybe I want it to be easy and nothing about being with you has been easy.”
“Alright, now you’re just being a dick,” he shrugged his shoulders and headed for the stairs.
“No I’m not! You kissed my friend!” You shouted at him. “You lied to me! And you made our friends lie!”
“Fine,” he shrugged, turning around in the living room. “I’m a liar and a terrible boyfriend, and if it’s so hard to be with me then maybe you shouldn’t.”
“Fine,” you said, walking past him and into the foyer to grab your coat. You tugged at your boots and he followed behind you.
“You’re actually going to leave?”
“You just said I shouldn’t be with you!”
“We’re fighting, Y/N! We’ll talk in the morning and we’ll figure it out. We’re busy and we’re stressed.” His voice was quieter now but he was still annoyed.
You shook your head. “We’ve been busy and stressed before, Harry. This is different.”
“Can we just wait to talk about all this until you’re sober and m'not jet-lagged?”
You tugged at the handle of his front door. “I’m calling an Uber.”
“Y/N, I’ll drive you.”
“No,” you said, just to be defiant.
“So you’re going to stand here in my driveway and wait for an Uber?”
“Yes.”
“Then I’m going to stand right here and wait until you get in it. And then I’m going to call you in the morning and we’re going to talk about this.”
“Maybe.”
He sighed again, leaned against the door frame and did what he said he would: he watched as you stood and kicked at the asphalt. Watched you climb in and drive away.
But he didn’t call the next morning.
**
December 23, 2011
You were stood in a big room at the Manchester Apollo, tables lined the walls with snacks and candy and water bottles. Jessie ran a hair through her straightened hair, Bryn was glued to the screen of her Nokia cell phone.
“S’a fancy in here,” you said.
“Seriously,” Jessie looked around. “S’like they proper made it.”
“I heard the place fits almost three thousand people,” Adam threw a handful of pretzels into his mouth and laughed. “Fucking nuts, innit? That many people want to see Harry dance around on stage?”
You smoothed out the dress that Jessie had convinced you to wear. You weren’t trying to impress him, no way. Clearly the universe had been conspiring against you long enough and at this point, you were considering any hope of a future with Harry to be a lost cause.
But that didn’t stop the flushing of your cheeks when he finally walked in, made his way down the line to hug each one of you and thank you for coming.
“Hi Smalls,” he smiled down at you, hands on your shoulders. “Have you grown?”
“Oh piss off,” you laughed. “An inch or two since the last time you came home, probably. Which was...what, a hundred years ago?”
“Alright, alright,” Harry rolled his eyes at you before he stepped back to see the others. The loss of contact between your skin and his made something drop in your stomach when he said: “I’m the worst friend ever, I know. You guys remember the boys, yeah?”
“Yeah,” Jessie said with a casual shrug of her shoulder, one that let you know she wasn’t kidding when she said in the car she’d sleep with Zayn one day if it killed her.
Jake rounded the corner of the sofa and sat down, offered a wave to Liam when Adam and Niall embraced.
“Smalls, your sister isn’t here?”
You looked over to Harry, slightly embarrassed to realize he’d been watching you. His voice was quiet, directed at you rather than at the group as a whole. Your cheeks flushed a bit and you shifted your weight on your feet.
“Oh, no--my mum wasn’t too keen on the idea of me bringing a thirteen-year-old into Manchester and back, I guess.”
“No?” He smirked. “Can’t imagine why.”
You rolled your eyes, ignored the dimple that appeared on his cheek when Zayn and Adam took up residency on the far side of the table tennis set up.
“Alright shut it,” you crossed your arms.
“Are we giving Y/N shit about the time she lost Katie?”
Bryn could never pass up a good opportunity to laugh at you, and apparently, in front of Harry was no exception.
“I cannot believe I missed that,” Harry smiled.
“Better get used to it, H, you’re missing a lot these days,” you shot back.
Sure--losing Katie in a crowd at Gulliver’s World Theme Park wasn’t your best move as an older sister. But the only thing worse than the panic that flooded you entirely was the fact that your friends were yet to stop giving you shit about the mishap. Your parents were angry enough that you basically never wanted to be in charge again, but the chorus of constant we can’t believe you, how on earth did you was enough to wish you’d never even agreed to let her tag along on the day trip.
Harry got distracted eventually, though, he was tugged in a few different directions to get his hair touched up and to change his shoes. You were ushered out into the theatre and you did your best to fight the butterflies when they came on stage.
The idea of girls screaming for your friend, a boy you’d long dreamt about snogging, was enough to leave you in a state of shock on the drive back home. You piled into the back of Jake’s car and ignored the way Jessie smirked at you over her shoulder.
“Can I help you?”
“You love him,” she said quietly, thankfully Jake and Adam were too busy in the front discussing the upcoming plan for the night.
“I don’t love him,” you rolled your eyes. “I’ve moved on, he’s...a bit busy lately.”
Jessie stifled a laugh and made a knowing face at you. “Oh come on, you expect me to believe that him getting famous makes you like him less?”
“Oh leave her alone,” Bryn piped up from behind you. “Haven’t you been texting Nolan Truscott a lot lately?”
“Maybe,” you smiled at both of them.
“He’s insanely fit,” Bryn nodded.
“Says the one who likes girls,” Jessie’s forehead wrinkled in confusion.
“Doesn’t mean I don’t know a looker when I see one,” she wiggled her eyebrows at you.
You laughed and hoped they’d drop it, but on a rainy night speeding down the M6, you’d never be so lucky.
“You’re really saying you’re over Harry, like, totally not into him anymore?”
You shrugged, looked out the window for a minute at the passing farmland. “Of course I am. M’not an idiot that’s going to pine over someone who uses too much hair product now.”
“You don’t have to be,” Bryn said with a small smile, almost like she could see through your joke.
“Good for you,” Jessie nodded, apparently in full support of your words. “Nolan’s fit, Harry’s an idiot, always has been as we know. Cheers to a new Y/N that has moved on.”
She held up an imaginary glass and clinked it against your head, you elbowed her playfully and Bryn told both of you to shut it when Call Me Maybe came on the radio.
Jessie didn’t give you any more trouble and soon enough you were in Adam’s basement, a small Christmas tree in the corner dressed with ornaments you’d all decorated over the years. You’d already taken two shots, which is why it felt harder with each passing second to pull your eyes off the back of Mollie Amsbury’s head.
“Y’alright?” Bryn popped up beside you, her gaze following yours to see Mollie and Harry chatting near the antique pinball machine. Adam always said it was his dad’s pride and joy.
“Yeah,” you nodded. “Fine.”
“You sure?”
“Sweet Brynnie,” you smiled over at her. “I am positively, absolutely chuffed to be here and to spend this lovely evening with our wonderful peers.”
She looked at you like you were crazy. “And I should believe you why?”
“Because I’ve decided that I’m going to kiss Zachary Bramhall tonight.”
“What happened to Nolan Truscott?”
“He’s not here,” you shrugged. “Visiting his gran in Brighton for the holiday.”
Bryn’s mouth formed an ‘o’ as she realized that you hadn’t given up altogether on whatever romance was possibly budding with Nolan, you just needed an eligible bachelor for the evening.
“Is Zach even here?” She scanned the room quickly for his dirty blond locks.
“He went upstairs to get me another drink,” you said casually.
“Oh,” Bryn smiled up at you, “I like the sound of that.”
“And when he gets back, I’m going to plant one on him right here, right in the sight-line of our pal Harold.”
“Oh,” Bryn’s face fell, concern etched in her features. “I don’t like the sound of that.”
“Relax, Bryn. S’fine. He’ll kiss me and perhaps it will strum up some jealousy in Harry and maybe he’ll feel so inclined to step in.”
“Or he’ll not realize that you’re scheming because you’ve never actually told him how you feel and so he’ll just let you kiss Zachary Bramhall like it’s none of his business.”
You looked down at your friend, unimpressed with her desire to poke holes in your plan.
“Or he’ll realize he loves you,” she acquiesced, her tone made it obvious she didn't believe her own words. “And perhaps he’ll propose marriage in his drunken stupor and impregnate you with his offspring right here on Adam’s sofa.”
You blinked a few times when she let out a laugh at her own joke. “What’s taking Zach so long, anyway? I just wanted a vodka-cran,” you looked around the room to gain focus.
“He’s not down here,” Bryn looked around again.
“Come with me,” you tugged her sleeve and pulled her towards the stairs, bounding up and towards the kitchen with speed in hopes that you could lure him back down to the basement and move forward with the evening as planned.
Bryn knocked into your back though, when you stopped at the top of the stairs and found Zachary Bramhall kissing Emma Thornton in the corner by the refrigerator, his hands around her waist and hers in his hair.
“Oh,” Bryn said when she peered over your shoulder. “He looks busy.”
You nodded, smiled down at Bryn and then came face to face with Harry as he climbed the stairs behind you, Jessie stumbling in tow.
“Hi,” he greeted, eyes catching yours for a second as you tried to blink away whatever emotion threatened to spill over. His hair was messy after the show, his eyes looked tired and his cheeks were red from the alcohol. He slung an arm around Bryn in his drunken state and then looked back at you.
“Hi, I--uh, m'gonna get some air,” you informed them all. Bryn didn’t chase after you, likely to downplay whatever reaction you were having and to not let Jessie or Harry in on your scheming.
You pushed the front door open, welcomed the crisp night air as you moved towards the bench along the front path to Adam’s house. There was a dusting of snow on the ground, mostly melted from a storm a few days before.
“Hi,” Jake’s voice was by the front door, he shut it behind him and brought his hands up to his face to breathe warm air on them. “S’fucking frigid out here--you better have a good reason for storming off.”
“I’m not storming off,” you said.
“No? Because it kind of looked that way when you stormed out of the kitchen and came out into the freezing winter night,” he shrugged as he came to sit beside you. “But what do I know?”
You laughed a little, leaned your head on his shoulder. “I’m an idiot.”
“Why’s that?”
“Because I was going to kiss Zachary Bramhall and then he was kissing Emma Thornton.”
He looked over his shoulder and in one of the illuminated windows. “Yeah they were really going at it, huh?”
You sighed. “Whatever, s’fine. I’m stupid, he’s stupid, Harry’s stupid.”
“Oh,” he nodded, drawing out the one-syllable word when he looked up at the stars. “That’s what this is about.”
“No, it’s not. It’s about the opposite,” you told him.
He tilted his head to the side and furrowed his brow, an invitation for you to continue.
“We’re going to finish A-levels soon and we’ll go off to uni and I am going to find someone so amazing I’ll forget he ever existed.”
“Yes you will, Smalls.”
He put an arm around your shoulder to comfort you before he let out a sigh. You did the same but then stood up.
“Alright, enough sulking,” you said. “It’s freezing.”
He laughed and stood up. “Thank fuck,” he nodded, followed you back inside.
The living room was dark except for a light coming from down the hall--the direction of Adam’s bedroom. You heard laughter, Jessie’s voice was audible before she stumbled out. “Oh hi,” she clutched a hand to her heart, “you scared me.”
Harry appeared behind her, a smile on his face faded when he saw Jake’s arm around your shoulders. “Where were you two?”
“Just having a chat outside,” you said with an innocent shrug of your shoulders. “Where were you two?”
“Harry left his phone in Adam’s room,” Jessie said quickly. “Wanted to make sure no one got a hold of it.”
Jake let out a laugh, “too many celebrity tits on there?”
“Oh piss off,” Harry laughed, shoving his phone in his pocket. “Wouldn’t you like to know!”
“Alright,” Jessie waved them off, taking a step forward to link her arm in yours. “Need another drink?”
**
Present day
It was afternoon when he texted, almost time for supper when your phone buzzed and you stared at it on the coffee table. Bryn was sat beside Jake on the floor, they both watched and seemed to silently ask ‘are you going to read that?’
Your eyes were swollen from emotion, Bryn had smudged eyeliner on her cheeks, Jake took another swig of water before saying: “open it.”
Harry S (4:56pm): I’ve been asleep all day, feel like shit from the time change. Let me know if you want to talk.
“If I want to talk?” You looked at them, tossing the phone onto the floor. Maybe there wasn’t a right or wrong way to have a fight with your significant other, but he didn’t even seem to be trying to say the right thing or repent for his wrongdoing.
“Well at least he hasn’t been ignoring you all day,” Jake shrugged.
You let out a sigh, leaned back on the couch and squeezed your eyes shut.
“Not for nothing, Smalls, but you said last night that things have been bad between the two of you lately.”
Your head snapped up, embarrassed that drunk Y/N had let it slip. Bryn’s forehead wrinkled and she looked at you.
“No--it’s fine, it’s just--I don’t know,” you groaned.
What were you supposed to say? The job offer in LA was such a big part of it that without that detail, the rest of the story might not make any sense.
“Smalls,” Jake eyed you more seriously now.
“We’ve been distant,” you shrugged, pulling your knees up to your chest as you contemplated what other information to divulge. “He’s been busy at work and I’ve been busy and I didn’t tell him at first about the Gigi interview and he was annoyed about that but he’s just been moody lately. I mean, you saw him the other week at dinner. He practically had a strop before we showed up and--”
“And what?” Bryn asked.
“It’s just been getting harder. His job makes it all really difficult.”
“You just need to talk to him, Y/N,” she reassured. “I believe you, and I can only imagine, but you and Harry have something so special.”
“Do we?”
“Of course you do,” Jake said, laying down on the ground to stretch his hungover limbs. “And the fact that he and Jessie kissed is not a good enough reason to not be with him.”
Right, of course that’s how this appeared to them. Like you were being dramatic and stupid and simply overreacting to a drunken mistake a few years back.
You didn’t reply, you didn’t have the energy to explain yourself anymore than you already had. Jake closed his eyes and Bryn got up to turn on the kettle. After fifteen minutes had passed and you were almost certain Jake was asleep, there was a knock on the door.
Bryn froze, you froze, and Jake’s eyes opened instantly as he pushed himself up on his elbows.
“Y/N? S’me,” his voice was muffled through the door.
You looked at Bryn and Jake and they hopped into action. Bryn grabbed her purse on the end table and Jake reached for his coat, they headed for the door and opened it, greeting him on their way out.
“Hi Harry, bye Harry,” Jake said, a clap on his shoulder when Bryn offered a grin.
“Good luck! Love you both.”
He stepped inside awkwardly, shoved his hands in the pockets of his coat after he shut the door quietly behind them.
“Hi.”
“What do you want?”
“To talk about everything you said last night," he said this as if it was obvious.
You rolled your eyes and padded over to the kitchen to pour a cup of tea. He looked like he was about to ask for some, but you emptied the contents of the kettle into your cup before setting it back down.
A fake smile, “sorry, none left.”
“Y/N, what’s happening?”
“You’re the one who kissed someone else.”
“Before I knew you had feelings for me.”
“One of my best friends--”
“I should have told you.”
“You should have,” you nodded, hands around your teacup.
He was quiet for a minute and you wondered if Jake and Bryn actually went inside Jake’s flat across the hall or if they had their ears pressed to the front door.
“Do you actually think this isn’t working?”
You dropped his gaze and looked to the floor, “do you think it is working?”
“I mean,” he shrugged, “it’s been hard lately. I get that. But I don’t think that means we shouldn’t be together.”
“You’re busy all the time. You’re always on your phone and your job sucks, okay? I’m sorry, I know you love it. But it’s difficult to be the one who always has to move her schedule to fit around yours.”
“It’s not easy being me, y’know.”
You scoffed, walked out of the kitchen and into the living room as you shook your head. “Unbelievable.”
“Unbelievable?”
“Yes, Harry, it’s unbelievable to me that you have the nerve to say that after you’ve cancelled our plans, been late to events, and then neglected to tell me that you and Jessie have history.”
“You’re being ridiculous! Do you hear yourself? It was so long ago I barely even remember it.”
“Happy for you.”
“You’re seriously going to end our relationship over this?”
You turned to look at him quickly, a lump in your throat when you saw the look in his eyes.
Thai food, drunk nights at Adam’s, concerts in New York and birthday dinners. Sundays lounging in his bed, your trip to LA and the way he hummed along to the radio. The happy moments existed and that was something you’d never deny. But loving Harry had long been a difficult journey and one that often left you wounded and insecure.
His forehead was wrinkled, he kept his eyes trained on you as if you held enough power in your hands to shatter his world into pieces.
But it wasn’t that simple, and maybe you should have told him. Instead, you nodded.
“Yes.”
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too soon to tell, chapter o n e
the two years too late sequel
Rain splattered the sidewalks as you trudged along in your boots. It was better than New York in some ways, worse in others. And while your days at The Scoop writing lists were long behind you, somehow ranking things that you loved about London came quite easily when you opened your umbrella for cover.
All of your friends were close by.
Traveling back to Holmes Chapel was much easier when it didn’t include a 6 hour flight.
Everyone knew what you meant when you said bollocks and you no longer needed to worry about getting a side eye from coworkers when it slipped out in a meeting.
Going home to see your parents was now something you did quite frequently.
Your younger sister, Katie, had moved to London upon the completion of Uni last spring, as did Jessie when she finished her PhD program in May.
Bryn had been promoted and moved to the London office of her finance firm last year, and you’d managed to secure a flat across the hall from where Jake and Adam were now living.
Oh, and Harry’s house was only 8 minutes from yours.
You dodged the rush-hour foot traffic when you headed for the tube, the vibrating in your pocket was sure to be Jessie, already complaining about the weather on her official move-in day.
It was a quick ride to her new flat after she confirmed that you were on your way, only 10 minutes towards Finsbury Park and by the time she opened the door and you shrugged off your raincoat, Bryn had brought the last box up from the truck they’d rented.
“Innit spacious?” Jessie smiled, spinning around the living room with her arms stretched wide. “Much better than sleeping on the floor of Bryn’s.”
Bryn, who looked utterly displeased with Jessie’s words, shoved the box toward your friend. “Well if it weren’t for my floor you’d have been homeless in London.”
“No I wouldn’t,” she made a face. “Y/N would have let me stay with her--or Harry, Lord knows he has the room.”
You rolled your eyes, they were quick to make jokes about Harry’s house or Harry’s money and now that the two of you had been officially official--as Bryn had deemed--for a year and a half, they started asking the obnoxious questions you knew were coming.
When are you going to just move in with him? You sleep there most nights out of the week anyways. Where’s the ring? How many babies do you want?
Jake and Adam were no better, truthfully, seeing as their two-bedroom that faced yours had an outdated kitchen that had them cooking dinner in yours quite often, meaning any forward advancement in your relationship might be a threat to their wellbeing. How on earth will we eat if Y/N moves to Harry’s and we don’t have access to this type of counter space?
Another knock on the door revealed Jake, hair dripping from the rain outside when he stepped onto Jessie’s new hardwood floors. “Could do without the weather, yeah?”
“Try lugging her shit out of the truck while it’s pouring and then up those stairs,” Bryn cracked, tossing him a tea towel from an open box, presumably one with kitchen supplies.
“Aren’t you all glad I’m here, though?” Jessie slung an arm around your and Jake’s shoulders, grinning up at each of you. “S’like uni all over again.”
Right--the few years you were all on the same continent, minus Harry, of course. Bars and clubs and nights too drunk to remember when you were just trying to get over a guy you’d never even dated. Hard to do when his face was on magazines and his voice was all over the radio.
Now he slept with his arm across your waist most nights and when he wasn’t in the studio recording his next album, he was sat in your flat doing a word-search while you typed up your latest story.
“Where’s Adam?” Bryn asked, arms over her chest. “If we’re here to help Princess Jessie unpack, we need all the hands we can get.”
Jake shrugged in reference to his roommate’s location. “Should be here soon, unless he gets stuck on another math textbook.”
The door pushed open in the middle of his sentence. Adam, who caught the latter half of Jake’s joke, offered him an unimpressed glance and wiped his boots on a welcome mat--Jessie’s first personal touch. “Very funny.”
Adam’s new job--editing uni textbooks for a publishing company downtown--paid better than his last gig but still didn’t leave him feeling incredibly fulfilled. But he was happy to pay his bills and spend his free time screaming at the telly with Jake in your living room or tagging along to weekly group date nights.
When you first moved to London after losing your job in New York, you didn’t really know how things would look. Sure--living a few blocks from Harry in the village made it easy to fall for him all over again, like you were sixteen and waiting for a text back.
But in London, you were sure it would be different. You’d need a job, he’d be back in the city he now called home with his other celebrity friends and all the obligations that came with being who he was. Tour, interviews, writing and recording.
A part of you wondered if it’d fizzle out, whatever chemistry between you was perhaps destined to be a silly hook up that didn’t stand a chance in the long run. A phase or a fling until he realized that school-aged crushes were better left in the past, or across the Atlantic.
A month went by, dinner on his couch and brunch dates up North with his sister and mum became regular activities. You settled into routine and Harry made no move to end your relationship. In fact, he did the opposite. He gave you a key to his house and introduced you to his other friends.
Eventually Jake and Adam started inviting themselves along on your dinner dates, and when Bryn got her promotion she started coming, too. Your younger sister Katie joined once in a while when she got hired at a PR firm and got a flat with a friend from uni and soon Jessie accepted a position teaching creative writing at University of Westminster, meaning somehow, glasses of wine and plates of tapas with Harry soon became group outings. Full circle, really.
Your relationship with him had always existed within the context of your friend group--the people you’d known since childhood and the ones who knew the entire story. Start to finish, beginning, middle, and end. Then the second act, the secret sex in New York and all of the ups and downs in between.
“Alright,” Jessie looked around the room, suddenly she meant business and Jake offered her a salute in jest when Adam stifled a laugh.
“You two, bring each box to the room corresponding with the label, yeah? Then you can get cracking on my bed frame.”
You smirked, Jessie called the shots and everyone moved into action. You sat on the kitchen floor and unwrapped plates and dishes, handing them up to Bryn when Jessie teased the boys in the other room about their ability to use an allen wrench.
“Harry’s coming by, yeah?”
“Should be,” you looked up at Bryn. “Talked to him on my way here and he said he was leaving soon, but I know he had meetings today with people from his record label.”
“Of course Jessie had to move on a Thursday,” she rolled her eyes. “I’d rather be at Barrafina sipping on wine, but, at least we’re all in the same place again.”
The sentiment had been echoed for the last year. When you all trekked home for the holidays last year, your nights at the Red Lion were spent listing off the things you had to do once everyone was back in London for good.
Those last two words had been sprinkled into conversations like your lease in Camden was permanent or like somehow you’d grown roots that now tied you to the streets of the city.
You loved London and being back in the UK had been great, but you couldn’t shake the anxiety that seemed to linger overhead whenever the entire gang clinked their glasses together in a dimly lit pub and said here’s to being back together again.
Bryn answered the knock on the door and found Harry, his greeting in your direction pulled you out of your head and back to the slightly slanted floor of Jessie’s new kitchen.
“Hi baby,” he came and pressed a kiss to your forehead, shrunk out of his jacket when Jessie appeared in the doorway.
“Harold, nice of you to join us finally. Hopefully you know how to put some furniture together,” she crossed her arms.
Harry raised his eyebrows in your direction at her tone but slipped into the bedroom and greeted the boys. Jessie--who returned after a few seconds of barking more orders--decided that Bryn was stacking the plates wrong, so she reached up to re-do her hard work.
“So, given it any thought?”
Her question was pointed at you, but you looked up and waited for her to say more when you unwrapped a mug.
She took your raised brows as a cue to clarify. “You know--moving in!”
“Oh, come on, Jessie,” you sighed. “I told you, things are fine the way they are. I like having my own space.”
She blinked a few times and shrugged. “And you don’t think you’ll be able to find space in his mansion?”
It wasn’t a mansion. Sure--it was bigger than Adam’s parents and your parents’ houses put together, but that didn’t justify the label that Jessie liked to casually throw around.
“It’s complicated, Jessie, alright?”
“Give the girl a break!” Bryn came to your rescue, glasses perched on her nose when she ignored Jessie’s restacking. “Clearly they have something good going and she doesn’t want to mess anything up.”
“Exactly,” you nodded, appreciative of her support. “At least someone understands it.”
“I understand it,” Jessie said. “I just think the two of you might need a swift kick in the arse again like you did in New York.”
You faked a laugh in her direction, thought back to your midnight walks and sneaking around with the boy who’d already broken your heart once.
You hadn’t meant to fall for Harry as hard as you did. You worked hard to ignore the stomach ache you’d get when you heard his songs at the bar in uni, forged a path for yourself and made new friends who didn’t know your connection to the famous boyband. Moved to a different country and felt confident that you were officially and undeniably over him.
But then the universe picked him up and dropped him a few blocks west from you on the island that you thought was Harry-free. (Few places were, afterall, when he’d shot to international stardom as you earned a bachelor’s degree.)
Getting over him once was hard enough, you didn’t want to have to do it again.
So after the drama that New York had brought, you didn’t want to rush it. It felt safer to just appreciate what you had. No questions, no pushing for the next step, just enjoying the fact that your new boss at The Face knew who your boyfriend was and now there were no secrets.
But moving back to London brought more attention to your budding relationship than you could have imagined. It took a while to get used to the stares and the special treatment that came along with being written about in tabloids. Harry Styles and Hometown Girlfriend enjoy brunch with popstar’s sister, Harry Styles and Y/N L/N through the years, Who is Y/N L/N and how can we be her friend?
The attention you’d gotten on the internet had started to grow when you documented your experience as a Brit in New York, before Harry had even reentered your life. Bagels, lox, Central Park, your cheeky tweets about adjusting to America seemed to be a hit. You made a name for yourself in the pop-culture journalism scene and had been eager to do it without the aid of labels like Harry’s childhood pal. Apparently dating him made all of that fly out the window.
The two of you did the best you could to keep your relationship private, and sometimes, it felt like it was harder to keep things hidden from your friend group than it was the paparazzi.
“Is there something you’re not telling us?”
You looked up at Jessie, unsure how she’d gotten that from everything you hadn’t said.
“No,” you sighed. “Leave it, alright? He can probably hear us.”
They both looked over their shoulders, laughter was audible from the other room and so was a thud, Jake stuck his head out to offer a nervous grin and to promise Jessie that everything was alright and nothing got scratched or chipped or dented.
And you were glad to have her here--in fact, everyone being in London was exciting and it did feel like uni and you got excited just thinking about all of the things you could do as a group. That is, if Harry wore a hat and sunglasses and tried to keep a low profile.
He sat next to you that evening, a box of Indian food on his lap atop Jessie’s new rug. He’d helped you line it up and roll it out, you stacked her books on the corners to help it lay flat and now, she watched everyone closely to ensure no drips or stains in her first 24-hours.
“Hey,” Jake reached his elbow over to nudge you, a wiggle of his eyebrows. “We have to take Harry to Miller’s.”
“Oh absolutely,” Adam laughed, a nod in your direction when you felt your cheeks flush pink.
“Whasthat?” Harry spoke through a full mouth, brow furrowed when he looked at you.
Jake leaned back and sipped on the beer that he’d brought from an off license across the street. “S’Y/N’s favorite pub--used to get smashed there almost every weekend in uni.”
You went to different schools, the five of you, but when the stars aligned and train tickets were cheap, everyone would spend the night drunk at a basement pub and then fall asleep on the floor of someone’s dorm room by sunrise.
“S’not my favorite,” you looked at Harry sheepishly. “But it is the place I got banned from for a year.”
His nostrils flared in shock and he swallowed the bite he chewed. “You got banned from a pub?”
“She danced on the table and then threw up in the hallway,” Bryn filled him in, a pitiful nod in your direction. “Right on the shirt of the security guard.”
“Because Jake was feeding her shots, though,” Jessie added.
It was true, but they were leaving a key detail out. You’d shown up at the bar broken-hearted, and for once, not by Harry. When things with your uni boyfriend, Charlie, were heading south, you felt pathetic and sorry for yourself that nothing ever went the way you wanted.
You remedied that by slinging back shots of vodka and pretending it didn’t burn your throat.
“It was a rough night,” Jake nodded when his eyes met yours. Apparently your idiot friends were bright enough to leave out the reason for your sloppy behavior.
Adam leaned forward to make sure everyone was on the same page: “So we absolutely have to go and relive it.”
“Let’s not,” you laughed. “We can go, but my dancing will be on the floor only and hopefully I don’t spill the contents of my stomach on anyone.”
“Sounds cute,” Harry teased, another forkful of food into his mouth.
That night you fell asleep in your own bed, trying to ignore the pit in your stomach when you thought about what Jessie had said: just move in with him already, we all know it’s going to happen.
As much as you hated to admit it, Jessie was right, but not about your living arrangement. There was something you weren’t telling them and as per usual, she could sniff out your anxiety like a trained police dog.
You woke on Friday to an unseasonably sunny day in London, a phone call from him interrupting your morning coffee as you swiped on mascara in your bathroom mirror.
“Hi,” you said excitedly into the phone. “I was thinking we could see a movie tonight,” you suggested, eager to have some alone time with him, you know, sans friends. Maybe you’d finally be able to talk to him about your worries and fears.
“HI lovie,” he said, his voice considerably less cheery than yours. “S’actually why I was calling. I know this sucks but, I just talked to Jeff and I’ve got to go to some dinner thing. I guess there are record execs in town and it would look shitty if I didn’t have dinner with them.”
You let out a sigh, capped the mascara and took another swig of the coffee.
“Can we do tomorrow night?” He asked.
“Can’t,” you shook your head. “I’ve got that thing with Naomi, remember?”
“Right,” he said as if suddenly he knew it was your coworker's birthday. You knew he forgot, but you weren’t going to call him on it.
“And then next week I start working on the November cover issue, so Sunday I shouldn’t stay up late, and the week itself will be really busy.”
Harry sighed into the phone. As things had picked up for you at work and as things were going full speed ahead to finish his album, finding time to see each other became harder and harder.
Which is why you didn’t want Jessie or Bryn or any of the gang pushing him about moving in together. A part of you thought it sounded nice--at least at the end of your long days or busy weeks you could come home to each other and sleep in the same bed. Having more than a toothbrush and some pajamas there would make life easier.
He sounded bothered. “Alright, Y/N, s’fine then.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“You’re always busy,” he said--you imagined him sitting at the island in his kitchen, a cup of tea in front of him or maybe even a muffin.
“You’re the one who’s calling me to cancel our plans tonight,” you reminded, feeling defensive.
It wasn’t fair to try to put this on you. You were the one with a mostly 9-5 job and you were the one who didn’t have to change plans at the last minute for record execs or managers or whoever it was that suddenly needed Harry to drop everything.
But apparently pointing this out only made him more annoyed.
A more audible sigh this time when he informed you: “I’m trying, here, Y/N.”
“So am I,” you walked back out to the kitchen. 8:34am. If you didn’t get out of the house in the next six minutes, you were sure to be late. “S’not my fault that I finally landed my first cover story and that you’ve got an album to finish.”
“I know,” he sounded more calm now. “Just want to be with you, is all.”
You bit your tongue--this was one of the moments where moving in together sounded ideal and you wanted to tell him your news. But would the risk of too much togetherness be worse than living in separate places in separate neighborhoods and sleeping in separate beds? And what happened if you didn’t stay in London at all?
He dropped it at that, said he hoped you had a good day and agreed to let you know what time he was out of dinner that evening. If you were still up, he’d come by and maybe you’d watch an episode of something on Netflix before you both fell asleep.
You’d pretty much take anything you could get.
The ride to your office was quick and easy with the good weather. Naomi was smiling when you walked in and reminded you about the plans you’d dreamed up during lunch a few weeks back.
“So you can come to mine, we’ll get dinner--just take away or something--head out and meet up with the others.”
“Sounds perfect,” you assured her.
She’d invited Harry at first, a small smile on her face as if she knew you’d shoot her down. That’s sweet, you had told her, but him being there will definitely make the night more difficult.
So maybe that was part of it. Being in a relationship with Harry and people knowing about it--that changed things. You were no longer living in your tiny, private bubble, sneaking him in and out of your apartment in new York and wondering what would happen if your friends found out.
Back then you spent most nights wishing you could just tell everyone--your coworkers, your boss, Jake and Jessie and the gang. Keeping Harry a secret felt confining and claustrophobic.
Now that level of secrecy felt nice, the two of you hiding away and spending your nights in his living room with beer and pizza. The grass is always greener, right?
The truth is that navigating your relationship with Harry was harder than you expected. You thought, at first, that having known him for so long would make it easy. You knew his favorite meal, knew his family and his gran. You knew what types of movies he likes and you knew, above all else, that you’d never loved anyone as much as you loved him.
Which is what you tried to remember in the difficult moments like this. Naomi’s eyes looked at you with a hint of curiosity. “Y’alright?”
“Yeah,” you nodded, sitting down at your desk and turning on your computer. “Just busy lately, is all.”
“How’d Jessie’s move go?”
“Fine,” you shrugged. “I think she’s just glad to have her own space and not be sleeping on a floor. She’s a bit of a princess.”
“I can relate,” Naomi laughed playfully and inspected her own perfectly manicured nails as she sat on the corner of your desk.
You were about to divulge the real reason for your mediocre mood when Tyler walked in with a big grin, a travel mug of tea in his right hand and a manilla folder in his left.
“Okay, you are actually going to love me.”
“Why’s that?” You eyed him skeptically, watching as he put the folder down and pulled out a piece of paper. It was a bit early for both of your work friends to be in your office and this excited, but you were grateful for the distraction.
“I have gathered every interview that Gigi Hadid has ever done where she talks about Zayn.”
Right--your first cover story. If the stress of being trusted with your first cover wasn’t enough on top of the stress in your relationship and your sudden anxiety about if you were meant to stay in London forever, knowing that you had a three hour date planned with Gigi Hadid in two weeks was just icing on the cake.
Tyler, who was your editor’s right hand man, had fought hard for you to get this story and his main selling point, naturally, was that both you and Gigi were dating former band members of One Direction.
You didn’t want to harp on that. You’d tried to talk your way out of it: it might be awkward, she might get upset if I ask, how do we even know she’ll answer those questions…
But Donna, longtime editor-in-chief of The Face, thought Tyler’s idea was great and that having you interview Gigi only meant more headlines and more traffic to the website.
Again, at this point you were taking what you could get.
“Alright, I know that Zayn will come up, but don’t you both think this could go incredibly sour?”
Tyler looked at Naomi with wide eyes and let her handle your anxiety.
She sighed and moved to sit in a chair nearby. “You said Harry and Zayn haven’t really spoken, right?”
“He said he hasn’t heard from him since like 2016,” you shrugged. “But I haven’t told him why I asked.”
This piqued Tyler's interest. He stopped shuffling through papers in the folder and looked up at you. “Wait, you mean that you haven’t told him that she’s the subject of your November cover?”
“No,” you admitted. “And I’m not really in the mood to tell him now and fight about another thing.”
“Are things not going well?” Tyler took a seat opposite your desk and you blew a quick puff of air between your lips. You eyed the door and Naomi took it as a cue to get up and shut it, sealing off your office to afford privacy for a totally not work related conversation.
“He’s just busy finishing his album, which you’re both sworn to secrecy about, yeah? He hasn’t announced it.”
They both nodded eagerly, and despite the look of desperation in their eyes for the juicy gossip of your headline-making love life, you knew you could trust them. Another sigh.
“He’s busy, I’m busy, we don’t live together so there are days when I don’t see him,” you trailed off, let your shoulders rise and fall as if you didn’t know what else to say.
Tyler, apparently, could see through this. He narrowed his eyes. “What? There’s something else.”
You looked through the glass that separated your office from the hallway where your coworkers buzzed about busily, unsure if you should divulge another detail.
“Okay,” Naomi leaned back. “Spill it.”
“I had an interview for a job in LA.”
“What?” Tyler asked, his voice quiet and his eyes wide. Naomi’s mouth opened in shock, they both didn’t see this one coming.
“I know--I wasn’t looking, I swear. Someone reached out to me and asked about my interest in being on-air.”
Tyler’s eyebrows furrowed wildly and he looked from Naomi back to you. “Who is it?!”
“E! News.”
They both gasped, excited smiles on their faces when you tried to hush them. “I have no idea if I’m even going to go, alright? I don’t even know if I’m interested.”
“Are you kidding me?!” Tyler asked. “The sunshine and the ocean and America?!”
“Right, already done that though.”
“New York is way different than LA,” he argued.
You shot him an amused smirk. “Do you want me to leave?”
“Of course he doesn’t,” Naomi cut in. “But it’s an amazing opportunity and you would love that, right?”
You let your head tilt from side to side in thought. You’d always wondered what it would be like to be in front of the camera instead of behind the keyboard. As a kid you’d film your own news shows and wrote your own fake scripts as you interviewed Barney and Big Bird and all of those childhood celebrities alike.
It was flattering, at the very least, that someone thought you were cool enough and good enough to even apply for an opening like that.
So when that email came through a week earlier and you were already feeling insecure about your relationship due to the lack of cohabitation, the thought of Los Angeles felt appealing.
What were you supposed to do? Follow Harry wherever his career took him and not look out for yourself? Were you expected to just wait around to see if this would ever amount to more than take away containers and sleepovers and trips to see your family over long weekends?
You felt silly, really, for thinking that you could have some type of normal relationship with Harry--one that followed the traditional timeline and had a destination and goal of ring, house, kids, like you’d so often pictured for yourself.
You loved him, of course, but that didn’t mean you could have the life you wanted with him.
“I mean, I’m interested, and the interview went well, I think. I haven’t heard back from them yet.” you shrugged. “But I don’t know if I would even take it, and I certainly don’t need anyone finding out about any of this, okay?”
Tyler gestured that his lips were zipped and Naomi nodded as if to promise that your secret is safe with us.
**
Somehow Jessie and Bryn had invited themselves to Naomi’s birthday. They’d met her a few times before and while Naomi wasn’t yet at the point of frequenting your flat or group hang outs, she was happy to have more smiling faces at a club she’d picked out near Mayfair.
Saturday nights were crowded and too loud, as far as you were concerned, but Bryn was having the time of her life hitting on Naomi’s younger sister and Jessie seemed eager to find another cocktail to suck down.
Despite the fact that Bryn and Jessie were your plus ones, you were almost ready to leave them here for the night and catch a ride back to Harry’s--a glass of water and stretching out in his king-sized bed for the night sounded superb.
You would have requested an uber, in fact, your finger was ready to pull up the app when a friend of Naomi’s from uni had managed to squeeze in between you and Jessie. She smiled timidly when she stuck a hand out to introduce herself.
“You’re Y/N, right?”
“I am, hi,” you smiled back at her, wondering if she’d heard about you through the mutual friend grapevine or if there was an ulterior motive at play.
“Yes, she’s dating Harry Styles, no, he’s not as cool in real life,” Jessie spouted off quickly, black cocktail straw between her lips. The girl let out an embarrassed laugh but smiled at your friend before looking back to you.
“It’s so cool that you’re dating him! I love your work, too, that interview you did with him in 2018 was amazing.”
“Oh, thank you,” you forced a smile, wondering if she had anything else to say to you. She didn’t apparently, she nodded a little and offered Jessie another smile before she turned and headed back to the other girls mingling about the table.
“That’s getting old,” you muttered to Jessie, scanning the room to find where Naomi had run off.
“Well, part of the territory, no?”
You sighed, ignored her question when she turned to face you more. “Are you sure there’s nothing up? You seem weird lately.”
Her curiosity felt more genuine than it did the other day. Maybe it was the fact that your boyfriend wasn’t on the other side of the wall and the noise in the club offered more privacy.
“Just busy with work is all. Harry’s been busy, a lot going on.”
She eyed you suspiciously and sipped at her drink. “Alright,” she sighed. “I know I have a lot of opinions and don’t always know when to keep my mouth shut, but if there’s something going on you can tell me.”
You wanted to, you were desperate for advice from a friend who knew you as well as you knew yourself. But if there’d been anything you learned over the last few years, it was that this friend group struggled to keep things private and while you loved them all dearly, it was too soon to let the cat out of the bag--especially if you hadn’t even told Harry.
“M’alright,” you laughed. “But I could use a shower and a snack and honestly, the music here kind of sucks.”
She rolled her eyes and let out a loud laugh. “No shit--honestly sounds like someone gave the aux to a fourteen-year-old.”
So you managed to escape the night without having to say too much. Jessie and Bryn were happy to head out around midnight and you soon sat in the backseat of an uber on your way to Harry’s.
He was in the shower when you got home, the water shut off when you sat on the edge of his bed and toed off your boots.
“Hi,” he greeted, towel around his waist and a cloud of steam behind him when he pulled open the door. “How was Naomi’s party?”
You smiled up at him as he pressed a kiss to your forehead on his way to his dresser.
“Fine,” you sighed. “One of Naomi’s friends was obviously only talking to me because of you.”
He met your eyes in the mirror, ran a brush through his hair. “Did she say that?”
“No, but she came up to introduce herself and Jessie cut to the chase and confirmed that yes, I’m really your girlfriend.”
He rolled his eyes when you unclasped your necklace. “What?”
“Nothing,” he shook his head. “I just--I dunno, I feel bad that it bothers you.”
“It only bothers me when it makes me feel like I can’t just be myself around people. Y’know, make friends or be normal and just talk to people.”
“And you felt like that tonight?”
“I feel like that most nights,” you replied without much thought, falling back onto his mattress and tracing shapes on the ceiling.
He let out a short and sarcastic laugh, unamused as he dropped his towel and pulled on a pair of boxers.
“What’s the laugh for?”
“I don’t want to fight tonight.”
“We’re not fighting,” you said casually, thrown off by the change in his mood. “M’just being honest.”
“How was work this week?” He changed the subject quickly, came to sit on the bed.
You bit your lip, looked up at him and offered a smile. Maybe now was as good a time as ever.
“Fine,” you sat up. “But I wanted to talk to you, actually, about my cover story.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah,” you stood, used both hands to pull your blouse up and over your head. If you didn’t have to look at him, it’d be easier to admit. “About my subject.”
His eyebrows dipped together as if he should have remembered but forgot. You didn’t draw attention to the fact that you’d managed to leave out that detail. “Who is it again?”
You tossed your blouse onto the floor and then pushed your jeans down to your ankles, stepped out of each leg before you looked back to see him.
“Gigi Hadid.”
His eyebrows lifted, a slow nod as he took this in.
“Sometimes it changes at the last minute and Donna’s been known to switch peoples’ months and everything, so--that’s why I hadn’t told you yet.”
He let out a long sigh, now it was his turn to lie back on the bed and stare up at the ceiling.
“Are you upset?”
“I mean, I wish it wasn’t her.”
You bit back a smile. “At least it’s not Zayn.”
He didn’t appreciate your joke.
“It’ll be awkward, though, obviously. And obviously Donna wants you to do it because of the history and the--y’know--connection.”
You stood half-naked in front of him and pushed out words you didn’t really mean. “I won’t do it if you don’t want me to.”
“No,” he waved you off, sat up now and met your gaze. “I’m happy that you’re doing it. I trust you. But please don’t let Tyler convince you to ask terrible questions.”
The corners of his mouth tugged into a smirk and he stood from the bed. He opened his arms and moved towards you, tugging you into him and then resting his chin on your hair.
“I miss you,” he said. “I know you’re here, but--dunno, haven’t seen you a lot lately.”
You knew the feeling.
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too soon to tell, chapter f o u r
You ignored the texts from Bryn, Jake, and Adam the rest of the day. You drew the shades in your flat and watched one of the stupid soap opera’s Alyssa had turned you onto and instead of calling your mum or your sister, you fell asleep at 7pm and then woke up at 3am.
Mostly, you tried to swallow back tears and remind yourself that if you lived without him for so long, you could do it now.
Bryn finally convinced you to come over to hers on Sunday and the rainy weather made you even more resentful of climbing the stairs to her walk-up.
You knocked three times before she opened the door and smiled timidly.
“Jesus, it’d be nice to get a lift in here, yeah? Feels like I climbed Everest.”
She stepped aside and you shrugged off your jacket, Jessie was seated on the couch in the living room and looked just as surprised to see you.
“What--is this some kind of set up, Bryn?”
She didn’t answer Jessie’s question, instead she looked at you to see if you were equally peeved.
“M’not doing this,” you said quickly, motioning to Jessie. You reached for your jacket after setting it on a hook, but Bryn slapped your hand out of the way.
“Yes you are,” she nodded before looking over to Jessie. “And you are too.”
“I have nothing to say to her,” you informed them, crossing your arms over your chest when Bryn moved closer to Jessie who sat in an armchair near the window. She eyed you with a displeased look, Jessie rolled her eyes and eventually, you huffed and took two steps closer to them.
“Jessie, do you have something to say to Y/N?”
“Not really.”
“Not really?” Bryn was annoyed now. “You’re not sorry?”
“I might be if she didn’t lose her shit on me at the club and not even hear me out.”
“I don’t owe you anything, Jessie--I don’t have to hear you out. Don’t you understand how terrible this is? You snogged the guy I’ve loved forever and didn’t tell me. What kind of friend does that?!”
“You told us that night in the car on the way back from his show that you were over him!”
You let out a sarcastic laugh. “Yeah, s’not my fault you were dumb enough to believe me!”
“Oh, I’m sorry,” Jessie faked a smile. “Didn’t know I had to assume you were a liar.”
“I’m the liar in this situation? Do you hear yourself?!”
“Alright, will you two quit it?” Bryn looked less than pleased as she stood in her living room, hands on her hips like a frustrated parent.
“If you believed that I was over him Jessica why did you purposely withhold the truth from me for nearly a decade?”
She let out a short huff of air from her nose, crossed her arms, and turned away from you.
“I’ll answer for you,” you snarled. “Because you knew I was full of shit. You knew I was in love with him and you were selfish as always and wrapped up in yourself and you knew it was wrong.”
“Do you know how obnoxious and ridiculous it’s been being a side character in your saga for the last fifteen years? You love him, you don’t, you hate him, you don’t!” She let out a groan and paced atop the carpet.
“Well the saga’s over, alright? I’m not doing that anymore. It’s been stupid and painful and I can’t do it anymore,” you clenched your teeth to hide the emotion as your voice shook. You didn’t want to cry in front of Jessie, show how much it hurt to be betrayed by someone who knew you almost your whole life.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Bryn asked, her voice much more steady than yours or Jessie’s.
Jessie’s head whipped in your direction when she stopped compulsively walking, you felt a knot in your stomach when you licked your lips. You cleared your throat to appear composed: “we broke up. I broke up with him.”
“Great, so now that you two broke up you’ll expect us to never speak to him again just like last time? That’s so petty, Y/N, honestly. I’m sick of our relationship with Harry having to revolve around yours.”
You looked at her with disgust on your face. “I’m the petty one? Pretty bold of you to say after you kissed my boyfriend and lied about it for years.”
“He wasn’t your boyfriend back then because you didn’t have the guts to tell him you were in love with him!”
“Both of you shut up!” Bryn yelled, her hands in the air like she could strangle either one of you. “Jessie, you’re a twat for kissing Harry and not telling her. Y/N, you’re a twat for breaking up with him over it.”
You didn’t mean to say it, but with anger coursing in your veins and Jessie Alby directly across from you, it just slipped out.
“That’s not the only reason I broke up with him.”
“Well then why did you do it?” Bryn pressed.
You let out a sigh, crossed your arms over your chest and figured that there was no point in being dishonest, especially if it’d make you a hypocrite.
“Because I got a job offer in Los Angeles. I turned it down but he was all upset about it and it didn’t--I didn’t feel like we were going anywhere. It doesn’t feel like we’re getting more serious.”
Bryn looked confused. “When did this happen?”
“Last week.”
Now Jessie piped up. “Why did you get a job offer in LA?”
You looked at her through narrowed eyes. “Because people think I’m good at my job.”
“I mean: are you looking for a new job?”
“No,” you shrugged. “Someone reached out. It was with E! News.”
“Holy shit,” Bryn mumbled.
“Yeah, and I turned it down like a fucking idiot for that wanker,” you threw a thumb over your shoulder in the direction of Harry’s neighborhood. “I should have taken it.”
“Why?” Bryn asked.
“Because he kissed this wanker,” you pointed at Jessie.
“She is a wanker,” Bryn nodded, holding a hand up when Jessie scoffed. “But you know she loves you and you know she’d never do anything to purposely hurt you.”
“Then why did you kiss him?” You turned to look at her, eyes pleading for even the slightest crumb of the truth.
She let out a big breath, shook her head. “Because I was drunk and stupid and I don’t know--I guess a part of me wondered what was so intriguing to you about him. Everyone was so obsessed with him once he was in the band and you pretty much always had been. I was curious--and off my face.”
You scrunched your nose at the thought of them kissing. In Adam’s house? With you on the other side of a wall somewhere? Jake and Bryn nearby too?
“For the record, it was maybe three seconds and I immediately felt nauseous. We laughed at how stupid and gross it was and I vaguely remember pinky-promising that we’d never even think about touching each other again.”
You eyed her for a second, hesitant to admit her words felt reassuring. You looked at Bryn. “You’re willing to back her up on this one?”
She raised a hand as if she was being sworn in. “I can truthfully say that when she told me it happened she looked utterly disgusted.”
“It was like kissing my brother.”
“I don’t care!” You said quickly. “I don’t care that it was disgusting because you shouldn’t have even done it. It was selfish not to tell me and stupid to do it. And even stupider to tell your fucking coworker--"
“Did you actually break up with him?” Jessie asked, the anger now diminished in her voice.
“Yeah, Jessie, I did. Knowing that he couldn’t be honest with me over something like that just makes me worry that there’s other stuff he’s not honest about. I mean, does no one remember the whole Nina Winters thing?”
Bryn pushed her lips out at that, like she’d forgotten all about the other moment of dishonesty you’d already witnessed from Harry.
Sure, whatever romance he’d had with the American model was short lived and barely got off the ground. But when you found out on the internet that his relationship with her and the start of your rekindling overlapped, you were heartbroken and knew you had no one to blame but yourself.
Which is exactly how you felt now. How could you have been so stupid for all these years to think that you and Harry were meant to be?
“He’s not a liar, though, Y/N,” Jessie said.
“Omitting the truth is still a shitty thing to do.”
“Yeah, but--you’re really going to throw it all away because I was a drunken idiot and he didn’t want to ruin what you guys finally had when you reconnected?”
“Yep,” you said it simply, like it wasn’t a huge decision and like it didn’t rock your world. “Trust me, it hasn’t been a walk in the park.”
“What do you mean?” she asked.
“We’ve been fighting a lot and I think back in New York we were wrapped up in the excitement of hanging out again that we thought an actual relationship could work, but--”
You cut yourself off, unsure why you were explaining yourself to Jessie. She shifted under your angry glare and watched as you finally sat on the sofa. She looked more guilty than Harry, somehow, her freckled face was nervous and uncertain when she watched you.
“What, Jessie? Why are you looking at me like that?”
“I just feel bad--I didn’t mean to fuck stuff up for you.”
“It’s been fucked up before this, alright? S’just icing on the cake.”
“Are you okay?” Bryn came to sit beside you, pushed her glasses up on her nose and reached a hand for yours.
You sighed, “I don’t know. Doesn’t feel real. I’m stupid, I guess, right? I thought that being in a relationship with him would be magical and exciting and--I dunno--I guess I fantasized about it for so long I never realized that it’s actually extremely difficult and time consuming and not normal at all.”
“You didn’t know how hard it would be,” Bryn tried to reassure you.
“Someone like him isn’t mean to be with someone like me.”
“How do you figure?” She asked.
“He’s jet setting around the world and I work a nine-to-five.”
Jessie was still timid when she spoke, like she was metaphorically walking on eggshells as she pieced a sentence together. “You’re saying all of this like you haven’t known him forever--you know he’s not just some stupid celebrity.”
“He’s been acting like one lately,” you said quietly, pulling your knees up to your chest and settling into the couch. Bryn took this as a cue to shove a blanket your way and head for the kitchen to put the kettle on.
“So maybe you need to just talk things through, have a come to Jesus moment!” Jessie reasoned.
“Why are you so adamant about working it out? You've never wanted us to be together and you wouldn't shut up about how bad of an idea this was in New York when we first started hooking up!"
She shrugged her shoulders, “I didn’t want you to get hurt.”
“Well now I’m hurt, Jessie! And it’s partially your fault!”
“Hey,” Bryn poked her head out of the kitchen to hold you accountable. “There’s more going on here and you know it.”
“Of course there is,” you admitted in a whine--you weren’t trying to deny that. “Harry and I got off to a weird start when I found out he was dating someone else at first! Then I found out that all of you had lied to me about him having feelings for me at some point. So there’s always been this weird level of dishonesty lurking in the background--we were built on a foundation of lies!”
Jessie rolled her eyes at your theatrics, you rolled your eyes in response and Bryn let out a sigh.
“When did you start to worry that you weren’t serious enough?”
“When I realized that he could go days without seeing me and not be bothered. And when I realized I couldn’t.”
They both offered sympathetic frowns at that, Jessie shifted in her seat. “You don’t think you should talk to him about that?”
“I thought I should, but then he got all bothered one night when I said being his girlfriend was hard and complained that he’s busy.”
“Maybe this is just a rough patch,” Bryn shrugged.
“Or maybe it’s proof that we’re not meant to be.”
“It’s you and Harry,” Jessie reminded. “Of course you’re meant to be.”
You didn’t reply, afraid that opening your mouth would let the tears build more quickly and race down your cheeks. Bryn brought you a cuppa and you traced the pattern on her throw blanket, wondering if you’d made the biggest mistake of your life or if you were saving yourself future heartbreak. After all, the higher you climb, the farther you fall.
You walked the long way home, the pavement between your boots felt grounding. The thought of sitting in your flat alone on a Sunday evening felt more depressing than walking in the rain so you did a few laps around your block just to avoid the leftovers he’d left in your fridge last week and the phone charger on his side of your bed.
You didn’t know what this would look like: would he still come to Thursday night dinners? Would he still reply in the group text? Would he show up at your flat again in a few days to talk things through or beg you to come to his to try to fix things?
Monday morning was cloudy and Naomi and Tyler could tell something was up, a group chat from Adam and Jake around lunch let you know somehow they’d been clued in.
Adam Penter (1:12pm): 🙁
Jake Newcomb (1:14pm): Double 🙁
Y/N L/N (1:15pm): 🤷♀️
You didn’t know if Harry had told them or if Jessie couldn’t keep her mouth shut. Maybe it was Bryn, or maybe Jake did have his ear pressed against your door and heard the news for himself.
They knocked at yours that night with a pizza and a pint, hesitant smiles told you they came in peace.
They sat on the floor around your coffee table, the evening news muted as Adam handed you a beer.
“How much do you already know?” You eyed them suspiciously, not wanting to repeat all the details if they’d already heard most of it from someone else.
Adam looked at Jake like he was contemplating how honest to be.
“Please just tell me--I can’t take any more lying.”
“I thought we were calling it omitting the truth,” Jake teased, using your words from your conversation with Bryn and Jessie, his way of admitting they knew a decent amount.
“We know a little bit,” Adam waved Jake off. “But we’d rather hear it from you.”
You sighed, bit into the slice you held in your hand. Not as good as New York but it would do. “Do I really have to explain it all if Jessie or Bryn or Harry already told you?”
“Fine, fine,” Jake backed off. “But answer this: do you love him?”
You sipped from the green beer bottle and looked at him with a blank stare. “Jacob,” you said his name in warning. It was a stupid question, you didn’t know why he would make you answer something so obvious.
“Can I ask a different question?” Adam cleared his throat. “Were you really going to move to LA?”
“Oh Jesus, again--no privacy with you freaks.”
“Well that’s a big deal, Y/N, to not tell us about that,” Jake remarked.
“I hadn’t even gotten the offer until like five days ago.”
“You just got back to London!” Adam shrugged.
You narrowed your eyes at them. “I didn’t take it--not sure if your informant told you that.”
“He did,” Jake mumbled.
“You talked to Harry?”
“Of course we talked to Harry,” he said quickly. “What do you think we did on Sunday when you were at Bryn’s?”
You used a napkin to wipe grease from your fingertips. “How is he?”
“Angry,” Adam said. “Upset. A bit of both.”
“Does it not matter to anyone that I wasn’t happy? You know how he can be--he’s busy and he doesn’t communicate well. He didn’t text you when your gran died,” you motioned at Adam.
“No one is saying he’s perfect,” Jake admitted. “He’s an idiot, he’s a wanker, we know that. But that doesn’t mean you can’t be with him. You’re a wanker too.”
“I didn’t let you guys in here to put me on trial, you know.”
“We love you,” Adam said. “We want you to be happy and we think Harry is a part of that, even if it’s been hard lately.”
You rolled your eyes, appreciated that Jake took it upon himself to unmute the telly and change the topic of conversation by sharing a stupid story from the office. They left before 9pm and you locked the door behind them, hoping that the desire to call him or go to his would fade overnight.
When you got to work the next morning, you were surprised to see an email from Harry’s manager in your inbox.
Tyler looked up from across the room when you scoffed, your notes from the Gigi interview sprawled out on the coffee table in front of him.
“What?”
“Listen to this email: Hi Y/N, wanted to connect with you over a few things. One--there were a few tweets that surfaced over the weekend from people who saw you getting into a car after a night out at Reign. I would assume more will come (along with headlines and media coverage alike) as news about the separation spreads. Maybe we can talk at some point about making a statement--unsure of Harry’s thoughts on this but I’ll talk with him as well. Also, let’s find a time for the three of us to meet for coffee to discuss your Gigi cover when you have a first draft.”
You’d told Tyler and Naomi the news, they were equally as upset as your friends and equally convinced that this was temporary.
Tyler’s eyes were wide when you looked up from your screen, waiting for a reply.
“News about the separation?" He pulled a face. "That sounds like something a divorce lawyer would say.”
“Of course even breaking up with Harry is a whole ordeal, nothing the man does is simple or normal.”
He ignored your words and came to read the email over your shoulder, his bleached blonde hair messy after he ran his hands through it a few times. He was quiet, looked down at you in between letting his eyes trace the words on the screen.
“What?” You finally asked when he headed back for his seat across the room. You knew he had something to say.
“Just--dunno--you’re really sure you can’t be with him anymore?”
You pressed your lips together and leaned back in your chair. The question everyone was hurling at you, the words that echoed in your mind late at night when you tried to sleep and forget the events of the last few days.
Justifying your own feelings and explaining your frustration was getting old now. You hadn't even had room to breathe since everything exploded and Jessie and Bryn and Jake and Adam and Tyler and Naomi and Alyssa didn’t need to understand. It didn’t need to make perfect sense to them and they didn’t have to like it.
“Not right now, alright?”
“Not right now, like you don’t wanna chat about it or not right now as in you can’t be with him right now?”
You thought on it for a second. “Both.”
“Hi,” Naomi knocked on the door and stepped inside, three white cups in a drink holder from the cafe down the street. “Figured if we were going to map out this cover story and finish our weekly deadlines we probably need some caffeine.”
“Y/N just got an email from Harry’s manager,” Tyler ratted you out before Naomi could even hand you the coffee.
“Oh?” She looked towards you. “Saying?”
“I’ll have a chat with them about the cover, and then about making a statement about the separation,” you put Jeff’s words in air-quotes and then took a sip.
“You don’t think Donna will pull your cover if you and Harry make a lot of news, do you?” Tyler’s question caused both you and Naomi to freeze.
“She coudn’t--” your shoulders slumped. “Could she?”
Naomi winced and tilted her head side to side. “She’s done strange things before, but, I don’t know. I don’t understand half the decisions she makes.”
You let out a sigh and leaned back in your chair. “Well fuck me. Now I have to play nice with Harry to avoid major headlines.”
Tyler made a face in your direction. “As if you were going to not play nice.”
“You know what I mean!”
He did, they tried to reason with you and talk through scenarios for the meeting to help you feel more prepared. They even stayed late to help you type up the transcript and get started on an outline.
But when you walked into an office building near Kensington a few days later, you wished they could attend the meeting with you to help settle any nerves.
You could hear his voice from down the hall, low and quiet when you rounded the corner and tried to steady your breathing. Jeffrey was seated on one side of a conference table as you approached, his sentence trailing off when he smiled and stood to welcome you. Harry sat a few seats away with his hands in his pockets, his eyes finding yours for a split second before he looked away.
“Hi Jeff,” you said, swiveling your head towards Harry’s, you swallowed and wondered if your cheeks looked as red as they felt. “Hi Harry.”
“Hi,” he said with a quick nod, a formality like you were just another business partner.
“So--thanks for coming, Y/N. Obviously we just wanted to chat about if-slash-what Harry might say in a statement. I mentioned in my email that people are starting to talk after those photos.”
You took a seat and smoothed out your dress, Jeffrey opened up his laptop and typed a few things.
“And we need to listen to the interview,” Harry reminded, his words prickly.
“I was getting there,” Jeff held up a hand to stop whatever tension was already building. “But yes, he’s right, we need to do that.”
“Okay, I just typed up the transcript, so I can send it to you.”
“Great.” Jeff nodded, his short answers made you think the two of them had already agreed to make this go as quickly as possible. “Any opposition to Harry making a statement addressing the split?”
“Uh,” you looked over to Harry, he kept his eyes on the ground as he twisted a ring on his finger. “No, I guess not.”
“Great,” he said again and smiled softly, apparently the meeting was going more swimmingly than he’d expected. “We can work on something with the team and get back to you? Send you a proof beforehand?”
Jeffrey looked to Harry, lips in a thin line when he brought his eyes back to you. You knew what he was saying: I can send you a proof so we don’t have to spend any more time with you two in the same room.
“Sure,” you offered him an apologetic smile.
“Okay--” Jeff looked at both of you. “Harry, we’ll work on something and I’ll discuss it with Y/N. Y/N, you’ll send us the transcript and we’ll give notes, and then we’ll handle the article when it’s closer, yeah?”
You nodded again, hands clasped on your lap like you were getting scolded by a teacher. Why was this meeting even necessary if all you’d accomplished was that you’d stick to the plan you’d already come up with? This all could have been done over email.
You felt Harry’s gaze on you before he spoke. “Jeff, can we have a minute?”
Jeff stopped typing, his eyes flickered to you and then back to Harry. “Sure--yeah. I can, uh, I’ll go down and get the car. Y/N--we’ll connect over email.”
Another nod, your mouth felt so dry you weren’t sure if you could pry your lips apart at this point. Jeff gathered his things and mumbled something about meeting Harry in the lobby. You weren’t sure what you expected, but when Harry leaned over to pick up a box that had been sitting on the ground beside him, your brow furrowed.
“What’s this?”
He pushed it towards you on the table.
“Your things from my house.”
“Oh.”
“Figured you’d want them back.”
His nonchalance made something in you snap.
“Harry, do you even understand why I broke up with you?”
“Not really,” he answered honestly and blank-faced.
You rolled your eyes. “Because you’re not good at communicating. You lie or you don’t tell me things and then I find out and it seems even more suspicious because you can’t just open your bloody mouth and explain how you feel or what’s going on.”
“Well I tried to communicate on Saturday at yours but you wouldn’t listen.”
“Right, I’m always the one not listening,” you crossed your arms. “What excuse could you possibly have for--hmm, let’s see,” you lifted a finger to count. “One, the time you dated Nina Winters and didn’t tell me you were seeing her. Two, kissing Jessie and, what do you know, not telling me about it. It feels really great to find out things about my boyfriend from our friends.”
He seemed to shrink a bit at your words, like he’d forgotten about Nina and the fight you’d had in New York when you felt betrayed and confused and heartbroken. He stared at the table, and when it was clear he didn’t have anything to say, you stood up.
“I should have told you sooner about the job interview and I’m sorry that I didn’t. But I can’t keep playing this game with you and our friends of who knows what. I know we met in primary school, Harry, but I’m not interested in having an elementary relationship with you anymore.”
You picked up the box on the table and headed for the door. You thought, and maybe hoped, that he’d have something else to say. An apology, a retort, even an insult would feel better than the silence that echoed in the hall as you made your way to the lift.
But as you’d said, Harry wasn’t any good at communicating.
**
You were practically fuming when Bryn showed up around 6pm that evening, shoving shit in a box so Harry would know you meant business. A glass of wine had already been poured and Alyssa was on FaceTime when you opened the door.
“Hi Brynnie!” Alyssa waved through the screen. “Y/N’s finally lost it.”
“Finally?” Bryn laughed and shrugged off her coat. “What’s got your knickers in a twist?”
Alyssa made a face at your friend’s British slang but let you fill her in on your meeting: first Jeffrey said, and then Harry said, isn’t that stupid?
Bryn watched with wide eyes as you took a gulp of wine from the glass you’d already been drinking. “S’a bit early for that, no?”
“Did you not hear anything I just said? I’ve had a rough day.”
Alyssa let out a laugh at your feral behavior, watched as you shoved t-shirts, sweatpants, trinkets, headphones, books into a cardboard box.
“So you’re stooping just as low as he did and bringing him a box of his shit?” Bryn asked.
“Precisely.”
“And what exactly is the point of that?”
“To make him realize how serious I am about all of this.”
“Y/N, he was a dick, for sure, okay? But don’t you think you two are above this?”
Alyssa’s words made your head swivel in the direction of your phone. “Above this? He started this!”
“I think Alyssa just means that you guys will probably talk some stuff out, right? Fine, right, if you don’t want to get back together you won’t--but, maybe you should hold off on…” Bryn paused, looked over at the box and motioned with both her hands in a circular fashion. “This.”
“Are you implying that I should be the bigger person?” You stared at your friend (the one who was on the same continent) and watched her expectantly. “Cause it’s past that now, yeah? He showed up to a meeting with Jeff and gave me a box of my things that had been in his house. That’s low.”
“It is low,” Bryn admitted. “And if you really think this is the right thing, then I support you.”
“Then get your boots on--we’ve got a bus to catch.”
She did as she was told: said goodbye to Alyssa and pulled on her shoes, soon trudging behind you down the street. You gave her more details on the bus ride over, your knees knocked together as you rode over the bumps on your way north and out of the city.
You knew she didn’t think it was a good idea--the way she nervously picked at her nails made that clear. But she walked faithfully behind you when you climbed down the stairs and out onto his street, your arms wrapped around the box you’d found tucked in your closet from when you’d moved back across the Atlantic.
There was no way he’d be home. It was too early in the afternoon and he’d been dressed in your meeting like he had other places to be. Bryn had coached you on the bus: open the gate, drop it on the step, turn around, leave.
Now she stood behind you as you punched in the entry code, a smugness washed over you when you realized he hadn’t changed it to deny you access. It hummed as it separated, she let out a noise of disapproval when she trailed behind you towards his front door.
“Probably should have texted him, no?”
“I don’t owe him a warning, Bryn. We’re just leaving this and getting out.”
She didn’t reply, instead just rolled her eyes when you looked at her over your shoulder and offered a snarky smirk.
The sky was cloudy and your heart beat rose when you neared the front door, cars on the street provided enough noise to cover your stealth mission. You set the box right in the middle of his front step so he wouldn’t miss it, immediately feeling lighter when you turned around and no longer felt the weight of it in your hands.
“Okay, hurry up,” she ordered, hands in her pockets.
“I’m hurrying, relax,” you shot back, hopping down the steps. You were about to tell her to not get her knickers in a twist--the same language she’d used earlier at your flat--but the color drained from her face when you heard the door open behind you.
“Hi,” he said quickly, hood up over his head and a hand in the pocket of his sweatpants when you spun around to see him. "Long time no see."
Bryn offered an awkward wave but waited for you to speak.
“Hi, we were just, uh--dropping off your things.”
He bent down and picked it up, eyed the contents before he picked up a book he’d left at your house.
“I already had it packed this morning,” you lied.
“Did you?”
“I did,” you nodded. “Would have brought it to the meeting but--I forgot.”
He nodded slowly, the emotion on his face was hard to place but you knew he wasn’t pleased. “Sure you’re not just being petty and bringing this over cause I gave your stuff back?”
It took you a second to get the words out, offended by his accusation and even more bothered by the truth behind it. Even broken up, he knew you well.
Instead of answering his question, you lifted up your wrist. “Oh, here, forgot this.”
You unclasped the gold bracelet he’d given you for your birthday, took four big steps towards him and held out a fist. He put his palm up towards the sky and watched as you dropped it inside.
“You’re giving this back to me?”
“Yes,” you said simply. “S’not mine.”
“Yes it is,” he eyed you suspiciously. “It was a gift.”
“Well I don’t want it,” you shrugged, second-guessed the anger-fueled decision now but nodded confidently as if it didn’t hurt to see him.
Harry looked up at Bryn when she shifted uncomfortably on her feet and shrugged. “Sorry--we didn’t think you’d be home.” You made a note to reprimand her later for apologizing, but for now you returned to your spot beside her.
He threw a thumb over his shoulder, “yeah--heard the gate alarm.”
“This was her trying to sneak in,” Bryn laughed.
“Well I could hear you bickering...” he said casually, apparently unperturbed by your presence.
“Okay, well, there you go.” You interrupted their exchange. “Those are yours now.”
“Okay,” he said.
“Okay.”
“Okay,” Bryn clapped her hands together. “Glad this was so uncomfortable for all of us.”
You turned on your heels and tugged her arm back towards the sidewalk, hoping you didn’t have to wait too long for the bus to come.
He stood there for a second, watched as you both crossed the street and headed for the corner. Leaves fell from the trees overhead and you shrunk into your scarf when the thought occurred: you never thought this would be your relationship with Harry.
By the time you broke and looked back over your shoulder to see him, the door was shut, and he was gone.
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too soon to tell, chapter f i v e
December 23, 2011
Harry knew he hadn’t been great at keeping in touch.
He knew his friends were probably annoyed and he knew that he deserved it, but he also knew that inviting them to a concert, giving them backstage passes, and then bringing tons of alcohol to Adam’s party was a pretty good bet to get them back on his good side.
So as confident as Harry felt about his attempt to right his previous wrongs, he found himself with a knot in his stomach when he walked into the green room that night and saw them.
Adam and Jake were always happy to see him, they seemed less bothered by Harry’s new fame and how it shifted the dynamic of their friend group. They hugged him excitedly and only made a few jokes about the outfit he’d been forced to wear.
“You look like a Barbie doll,” Jake stifled a laugh, clapping Harry on the back with force.
“A stylish Barbie doll,” Jessie tried to soften the blow.
“I know,” Harry rolled his eyes. “Look--I don’t always get to pick everything I wear, alright?”
“We’re just glad to see you,” Bryn smiled. “Barbie Blazer and all.”
Harry ignored their jabs easily and pulled them all in for hugs, and then, Smalls.
“Hi Smalls,” he smiled down at her, hands on her shoulders when a smirk tugged at his lips. “Have you grown?”
“Oh piss off,” she laughed, shrugging away from his touch. “An inch or so since the last time you came home probably. Which was...what, a hundred years ago?”
Ouch--Harry pulled a face before he rolled his eyes, quick to let the insult roll off his back. He was getting used to it, slowly but surely, yet for some reason it always cut a little deeper when it came from her.
“Alright, alright,” Harry didn’t feel like spending too much time on the elephant in the room: his newfound career in the limelight seemed to put a wedge between him and his hometown friends. “I’m the worst friend ever, I know. You guys remember the boys, yeah?”
“Yeah,” Jessie said with a casual shrug of her shoulder, a flirty smile in the direction of his bandmates had Harry making a mental note: check in on that later.
Jake rounded the corner of the sofa and sat down, offered a wave to Liam when Adam and Niall embraced.
It made Harry happy to see his old friends and his new friends spending time together, minus the shouting that insured when Louis and Jake got too heated about a recent football match or when Adam seemed to dominate everyone in table tennis. So when Jake and Adam headed that way, he turned to Smalls and realized someone was missing.
“Smalls, your sister isn’t here?”
She looked up at him with a hint of pink on her cheeks, “oh, no--my mum wasn’t too keen on the idea of me bringing a thirteen-year-old into Manchester and back, I guess.”
“No?” He smirked. “Can’t imagine why.”
Harry had always loved teasing her--something about the way her eyelids fluttered in annoyance or the way she seemed to blush at the slightest of comments made his smile stretch across his face.
He’d always had a soft spot for her, less boisterous than Jessie and much less of a know-it-all than Bryn. She could give Harry shit when he deserved it but she was also the one who listened and cared and had a laugh that Harry missed more than he expected when he moved to London.
Which is why, Harry thought, he found himself more intrigued by the girl who sat behind him in Chemistry. Afterall, distance makes the heart grow fonder.
Now, in the green room, she gave exactly the reaction Harry had wanted when she crossed her arms and stifled a frustrated laugh. “Alright, shut it.”
“Are we giving Y/N shit about the time she lost Katie?” Bryn perked up as she watched Adam bounce the ball beneath his paddle.
“I cannot believe I missed that,” Harry smiled.
“Better get used to it, H, you’re missing a lot these days,” she shot back with an antagonising grin.
Y/N, he’d noticed, also seemed to be the least impressed by his fame, the most annoyed by his departure, and he couldn't help but wonder why she seemed absolutely displeased when he told them all that he’d lost his virginity.
Now when he made trips home or met up with the gang, Harry realized there was something about Y/N that felt different. Something pulled him in and simultaneously pushed him out, maybe it was the way she’d smile up at him and then embarrass him five seconds later.
Whatever it was, Harry felt it that night in the green room and again in Adam’s basement when he listened to Mollie Amsbury drone on about school. He made awkward eye contact with Y/N a few times across the room--she was standing in a corner with Zach Bramhall and then eventually Bryn, but apparently she couldn’t read his mind and didn’t know the way he was looking at her was a silent cry for help.
Mollie was nice--more popular than Harry had been in school--but with two mixed drinks in her, she seemed keen to keep telling him all about their teachers from Year 9 and who in their class was now sleeping with who.
Harry didn’t really give a shit. Harry was more interested in spending time with his own friends and laughing at their stupid jokes about their teachers and their accounts of the school’s drama. Maybe his tolerance for Mollie was lowered with each sip he took of his drink, but at this point, he just needed a way out.
Niall was playing flip cup with a group of boys on the far side of the basement, Liam was too busy talking to Kayla Kirkendahl to even notice that Harry was practically drowning.
Luckily, Jessie walked by him as she headed for the stairs up to the kitchen, he grabbed her wrist and made a pleading face. “Jessie--you said you had to show me something, right?”
Mollie stopped in the middle of her sentence and looked to Jessie, who nodded despite looking confused.
“Right…”
“Great, okay--sorry, Mollie, we’ll catch up later, yeah?”
Harry tugged Jessie away as Mollie nodded, a huff of exhaustion when Jessie looked him up and down.
“Y’alright, champ?”
He shook his head, “she’s sweet, but she’s brutal. Doesn’t shut up--I swear, she can talk to herself for hours.”
Jessie let out an intoxicated giggled as they wove through their peers. “You say this to another girl who can talk to herself for hours.”
“You’re different,” Harry shrugged it off, climbing the stairs with her in tow.
“Why’s that?”
“Because I can tell you to shut up.”
Jessie knew it was true and accepted his answer, though she couldn’t help but wonder if Harry’d ever found her to be as annoying as Mollie.
She knew she was loud, knew she had a penchant for keeping conversations alive. Her mom always said she’d make a great lawyer, but at 17, Jessie was starting to wonder if that was just as much of an insult as it was a compliment.
She didn’t have much time to dwell on it, though, as they found Bryn and Y/N blocking their entrance to the kitchen on the landing of the stairs.
“Hi,” Harry looked up at them.
Y/N was frozen, her lips parted like she’d seen a ghost. “Hi, I--uh, I’m gonna get some air,” she nodded at Bryn and then headed for the front door.
Harry felt his eyebrows dip. “She alright?”
“Yeah, yeah, she’s grand,” Bryn laughed and dismissed Harry’s question. He chalked her word choice up to the liquor in her cup.
“Mollie’s already being annoying,” Jessie told Bryn as they all made their way over to the kitchen counter. The bottles of booze that Harry brought were neatly lined up, and based on the levels inside, everyone in Holmes Chapel preferred vodka over gin.
“Could have called that one,” Bryn rolled her eyes and poured more into her cup.
Adam showed up and stuck his head between Harry’s and Jessie’s. “Can someone help me nicely tell Zach and Emma to stop dry humping on my mom’s fridge?”
“I will happily tell them to piss off,” Bryn lifted her cup and followed him over.
Harry checked his phone as Jessie poured another drink. The contents splashed up over the edges and she laughed when she used a pot holder to wipe up the spill. She took a big gulp and grimaced.
“Maybe have some water?” Harry suggested, his nose scrunched at the look on her face.
“I will, I will--where do you think Adam has a phone cord? M’almost dead.” She picked her phone out of her pocket and showed Harry the battery.
“Somewhere underneath the pile of clothes on bean bag chair, m’sure,” Harry said.
“Alright, come,” Jessie tugged his arm and made her way into the living room, down the hall, and pushed open the second door on the right.
Adam’s room was a deep blue, posters lined the wall and just as Harry suspected, the ever-steady pile of clothes was present on the bean bag chair in the corner. He flicked on the light switch and the door latched behind Jessie.
“Not to sound like Bryn--but when did he clean this place last?”
“Probably last year,” Harry laughed. “Or the year before.”
Jessie walked over to his bed and pushed some coats aside, flopping back on the mattress with a sigh.
“Show was good,” she said.
“Thanks,” Harry wandered over to the window that overlooked Adam’s street. Y/N and Jake were outside, the cherry of a cigarette visible through the dark as a cloud of smoke floated over their heads. “This might be a weird question, but--there’s not something going on between Y/N and Jake, right?”
“Y/N and Jake?” Jessie let out a sharp laugh, “no fucking way. She’s kind of seeing Nolan Truscott I think.”
For some reason this answer didn’t make Harry feel any better.
“Oh.”
“Why?” she stared at the ceiling when Harry turned around and spotted Adam’s phone charger.
“Just curious--don’t you need this?” He held up the white chord and dangled it in the air between them.
Jessie picked her head up off the mattress and her eyes lit up. “Right!”
She hoisted herself up and came to fetch it, plugged it in behind Adam’s desk and then set her phone down. “Jesus--didn’t realize how loud it was out there.”
“You’re also drunk,” Harry laughed.
“You are too,” Jessie accused with a smirk.
Harry thought on it for a second, he was definitely feeling the effects of his third drink, but the sandwich he wolfed down before the show probably helped a bit.
“So Y/N and Nolan Truscott?”
Jessie rolled her eyes at his question, why did Harry care so much about who Y/N was talking to or seeing or anything of the sort?
Of course Jessie hoped her friend’s crush would materialize into something real--but at this point, Harry seemed distracted by other famous women and his rich neighbors in London. And besides, Y/N had made such a big deal about moving on that Jessie hoped she meant it. If only to avoid further disappointment when Harry inevitably met someone and had a lavish wedding that was written about in every tabloid on this side of the Atlantic.
Jessie looked up at him and wondered, for a second, what it was about him that everyone found to be so charming. His moppy-curls were a bit too long, his teenage growth spurt made him a bit awkward and lanky, and worst of all, she once saw him burp his way through the alphabet, though he only made it to M.
He was handsome, he was kind, but Jessie decided it was mostly the band and the song and the screaming girls that made him so appealing.
“Why are you looking at me like that?” Harry asked, suddenly aware of the way Jessie’s eyes had seemed to glaze over.
“M’not,” she shook her head. “Sorry, zoned out.”
She picked up her phone and laughed at a text she’d received. Harry wondered, for a second, how Jessie always managed to be the life of the party. Harry himself had been a bit of a class clown before he left school, but Jessie rivaled him like no other.
She was outgoing and energetic and, in his insecure moments, had the qualities Harry thought he lacked. At first being famous was fun, and on most days it still was. But now when he came home and had to dodge Mollie Amsbury, he sometimes wished he could fade back into anonymity, or at least channel Jessie’s ability to never get tired of talking or laughing or being the center of attention.
She put her phone down and looked back up at Harry, unaware he’d been watching her for the last few seconds.
Her eyes fluttered down to his lips and then she leaned in. Harry didn’t know how he felt about it at first--not the worst kiss he’d ever had but also not the best. Their bodies pressed together momentarily, Jessie felt stupid as soon as she felt his tongue swipe her bottom lip. He cupped a hand around her face but then pulled away.
Jessie’s eyes were wide, she let out a cough and said: “sorry--that was--”
“Weird,” Harry laughed.
Relief, Jessie sighed. “Fucking weird, I don’t know why I did that.”
Harry shook his head. “Drunk, things happen, but, uh-- we should”
“Never do that again,” Jessie nodded, trying not to laugh.
“Agreed,” he held out a pinky to lock with hers and smiled.
“Let’s never speak of it, either, yeah?” Jessie eyed him hopefully. “Just uh--would probably freak a few people out.”
Harry nodded, pretending like this never happened was probably best for everyone. Jake and Adam wouldn’t let him hear the end of it and Bryn and Y/N would have a thousand questions. “Sounds good.”
“Alright, I retroactively accept your suggestion of water,” she laughed.
They headed for the door and down the hall, coming face to face with Jake and Y/N as they came inside from the cold.
“Oh hi,” Jessie clutched a hand to her heart when they nearly bumped into them, “you scared me.”
Jake removed his arm from around Y/N’s shoulders when Harry asked: “Where were you two?”
“Just having a chat outside,” Y/N said before tossing the question back at Harry. “Where were you two?”
“Harry left his phone in Adam’s room,” Jessie said quickly. “Wanted to make sure no one got a hold of it.”
Jake let out a laugh, “too many celebrity tits on there?”
“Oh piss off,” Harry laughed, shoving his phone in his pocket. “Wouldn’t you like to know!”
“Alright,” Jessie waved them off, taking a step forward to link her arm with Y/N’s. “Need another drink?”
So much for water, Harry thought.
**
Y/N L/N (9:21pm): We’re long overdue for a facetime date, so look at your calendar and get back to me.
Y/N L/N (9:21pm): Also, just a heads up that Harry and I broke up. Not a big deal, doing alright so far. I can fill you in later!!
Your phone clicked shut as you let out a sigh, feet folded beneath you on your sofa. Carly was likely still at work due to the time difference, and in the 18 months since you’d worked for The Scoop, Carly had gotten two promotions, a cat, and a boyfriend. Needless to say, it took her much longer to reply to your texts now.
And you’d never really imagined a world in which you had to give friends and family a heads up about something so the media didn’t get to it first, but here you were, scrolling through your contacts and sorting everyone into two categories:
Can read it on Twitter or in The Sun, who really gives a shit?
Would absolutely, positively murder you within seconds if they found out via social media or newsstand headline
Carly fell in the second.
Curiosity had finally gotten the best of you after a frozen pizza had been your Tuesday night date. Besides, Jeffrey’s words had been echoing in your ears since he’d said them: people are starting to talk after those photos.
There wasn’t much, yet. A few tweets with speculations that things weren’t so peachy in paradise after you were seen leaving the club with a permanent frown on your face. Two articles in various magazines detailing your night out for a close friend’s birthday.
Another search of your name yielded no more results, just various pictures of the two of you over the last two years. The side of your head walking beside him into a hotel on his tour last summer, the two of you holding hands outside a swanky restaurant in New York before you moved.
The internet was an eternal treasure chest of memories, you’d learned. Some good, some bad--but nonetheless a time capsule you could always access after a glass of wine.
Your phone buzzed and you assumed it was Carly, but an unrecognized American number taunted you until you unlocked it.
(212)347-9090 (9:24pm): Hi Y/N! It’s Gigi! Totally random, but I’m still in town and had a last minute meeting get cancelled. I know it’s late so you can totally say no, but any chance you’d be interested in grabbing a drink somewhere? Happy to talk about the feature more, too!
You read it a few times, sure that it was Jake or Adam playing a stupid prank with a newly downloaded app from across the hall. You stood up off the couch, tossed a sweatshirt over your braless figure and went to pound on their door.
“Excuse me--I’m sorry to break up whatever dumb shit you’re up to in there, but can you please not target me with your stupidity on a weeknight?”
You heard footsteps before Adam tugged it open, his eyes narrowed he took in the sight of you.
“What?”
You rolled your eyes and walked by him, taking a seat at their kitchen table. Jake was stood in front of the microwave, hands on his hips when he looked at you.
“I got your stupid text--very funny.”
They both looked at each other.
“What are you talking about?”
You paused, surveyed both their faces to see if they’d crack under pressure.
“You mean to say that you’re not the ones pretending to be Gigi Hadid texting me and asking me to get a drink tonight?”
Jake’s eyes went wide and he stuck his head out in shock. “What? No--that’s not us, Y/N!”
“I was about to get in the shower and he’s trying to make a microwave cheese toastie,” Adam explained.
“Holy shit,” you stood up quickly, bolted back out their door and across the hall to yours. They followed behind quickly, froze in your living room when you searched for your phone on the couch cushions.
“No one’s pranking you, Y/N--you just got asked on a date by Gigi Hadid.”
“S’not a date,” you rolled your eyes. “Just a drink!”
“Well stop telling that to us and text her back!” Adam shouted.
You picked up the phone and stared at her message again, thumbed out a reply and tried to play it cool. She picked a spot and said she could meet you there in 30 minutes, so you tugged on a blouse and a skirt and Jake pretended to choke at the amount of dry shampoo you sprayed into your hair.
They watched you get into an Uber and promised to blackmail you forever if you didn’t give them a full update. Your teeth chattered from the cold and from anxiety as you hurried through the rain and into the hotel bar, all the while rehearsing things to say you were doing instead of admitting you’d housed a personal pizza and a glass of Pinot Noir before she’d texted.
She was seated in the back, a tiny table like Harry always requested, with a martini in front of her. You tried to slow your breathing as you approached, but she caught you and laughed like you were old friends.
“Are you out of breath?” She reached across and squeezed your hand in greeting.
“It was raining out, I don’t do well in the cold--”
“Funny you live in London, then,” she laughed.
You looked around at the high ceilings and dimly lit room, slinking out of your coat. “Thanks for, uh, inviting me, s’a lovely hotel.”
“Are you kidding me? Thanks for saving me from my hotel room and a solo McDonald’s dinner,” she teased.
You let out a laugh and leaned back in your seat, thankful for her honesty and calm demeanor. “I was in sweat pants doing serious damage on a frozen pizza when you texted,” you admitted as you shrugged out of your coat. “So--I should be thanking you.”
“I love that for you,” she nodded. “Order a drink so we can cheers to a new friendship.”
You smiled at that, felt a rush of butterflies in your stomach at the label. Friends? She sipped at her cocktail and a waiter approached with a napkin over his wrist to take your order.
When he disappeared to fetch a Moscow Mule, you confessed: “I, uh, actually thought your text was a prank from my friends across the hall.”
“No you didn’t!”
“I did!” you laughed. “They were very excited to learn that I was interviewing you for my cover story, huge crushes on you. They’re boys, obviously--well, not obviously, my friend Bryn is as gay as they come and she’s also obsessed with you.”
You wanted to smack yourself across the face in embarrassment--as gay as they come? You winced at your gracelessness but Gigi only laughed.
“You should have brought them!”
You pulled a face and shook your head. “M’going to pretend you didn’t say that so I don’t get murdered tomorrow.”
“Well I’m just glad you weren’t busy with Harry or work.”
Right--which category did Gigi Hadid fall in? Find out on the internet, or tell her--right here, right now--as she used the olive skewer to stir her drink?
You forced a tight-lipped smile. “We actually broke up this week--but s’fine, kind of felt like it was headed that way for a while.”
“Oh, Y/N--I’m so sorry, I had no idea--”
“Yeah, no, hasn’t really gone public yet.”
You didn’t like the way she offered you a pity smile, but you could tell it was genuine. “Well, hey--as we said the other day. Boys are stupid and relationships are crazy difficult.”
“True,” you nodded.
“D’you think it’s for good?”
The waiter appeared with your drink, you thanked him and took a sip before answering.
“I forget if I told you, but I’ve known him forever, we’ve got the same friend group from back home. It gets a little messy sometimes seeing as my friends are his and none of them know when to stay out of each other's business. God love ‘em, but that’s been hard.”
She frowned, “yeah--being in the public eye can be really hard on friendships too.”
With an already wounded ego this week, you didn’t feel like reminding her that your level of internet fame was no match to her international fashion model status.
You didn’t know how much you should divulge to her, seeing as she was still a stranger and also the girlfriend of Harry’s ex-bandmate. This was the kind of situation that often had Harry’s or Jeff’s voice playing on a loop in your head: you never know who might repeat what you say.
Even broken up Harry’s career still controlled what you could disclose and to whom? You took another sip of your drink and felt the anger grow inside of you.
Gigi made an effort to get to know you--she asked about New York and why you left, told you about where she grew up and how much she loved horses. You weren’t sure if she purposefully avoided talking about Harry, but being able to talk about things other than your love life was a welcomed reprieve from the last few days and your typical partners in conversation.
You were shocked to find out that she knew your old boss, Whitney, and even more surprised to hear that she’d read your work before and was excited to learn you’d been assigned her cover at The Face.
By 11:30 she offered to have her driver bring you home and sweetly swatted your hand away from your wallet when you paid out. I’m the one who pulled you away from sweatpants and pizza.
Camera lights flashed when you walked behind her towards the car. It was a similar level of blinding that you’d experienced before with Harry, but he didn’t have legs like hers. You slid into the backseat beside her and then the car lurched into motion.
“Surprisingly that’s not as bad as New York,” she laughed.
“That’s what Harry says.”
She offered a sympathetic smile when she turned to face you. “Have you talked to him at all?”
“No,” you shook your head, deciding it was too soon to admit you’d emotionally showed up at his house only 36-hours earlier. “I’ll have to see him at some point but--might avoid it for as long as possible.”
Your phone buzzed on your lap and pulled your attention away from her. You swiped to open the email and despite Gigi having already labeled you a friend, she couldn’t read the look of surprise on your face.
“Everything okay?”
“Oh, yeah--sorry--just a work email.” You clicked it shut and smiled.
Partially true.
Y/N,
We understand your inability to relocate to Los Angeles and would be happy to discuss with you the possibility of a position at our London satellite. If you’re interested, let’s set up a call soon to discuss further details.
**
The next day after work you found yourself at Bryn’s flat making a list of pros and cons. A childish way to make a decision, she told you, but at this point, you felt like you didn’t know which way was up and which was down.
She asked a million questions after you disclosed the details of your most recent social event and in between scribing for you, she’d wonder aloud: what kind of hotel does Gigi stay in? What kind of impression did you make on her if she asked you to get drinks and offered to extend the interview? What did she smell like?
It took a lot of redirecting and a lot of deep breaths.
The list, so far, was as follows:
Pros of E! News on-air job
On-air, a career goal for sure
Higher pay, they’d informed you of the salary over the phone earlier in the day
Live reporting!
A bigger company than The Face, more international?
More opportunities to cover pop-culture (your favorite thing to dissect for a living)
Cons of E! News on-air job
Leaving Naomi and Tyler
Less writing
Potential of having to talk about Harry/more opportunities for a conflict of interest
You looked up from the piece of paper you’d ripped from a notepad at her place, now it sat atop your kitchen counter as you waited for water to boil.
It was undoubtedly a good career move, something you’d long been interested in, and Bryn had assured you that whatever guilt you felt about leaving The Face was unnecessary. A pang of sadness when you realized you couldn’t call Jessie, this was a moment when you would have happily welcomed her strong opinions.
You opened a box of pasta and dumped some into the pot when your phone dinged to signal a new text.
Harry S (6:31pm): Read over the transcript and rough draft you sent to Jeffrey. Honestly worried that people will read it and think dating me is miserable.
Your heart was in your throat in a matter of seconds, skin prickly with emotion as your thumbs hovered over the screen.
Y/N L/N (6:32pm): Well to be fair it wasn’t always a walk in the park.
Harry S (6:32pm): You realize that if you write an article smearing me they’ll cover both of us in the news, right?
Y/N L/N (6:33pm): It’s not smearing you, it’s an honest conversation we had and a think-piece pertaining to sexism in celebrity and pop culture.
Harry S (6:33pm): And your admission that dating me has negatively impacted your personal and professional life…
Y/N L/N (6:34pm): I’m nothing if not an honest journalist 🤷♀️
Harry S (6:34pm): Bad press is bad press for both of us
Harry S (6:35pm): Don’t you think we should avoid things that will just bring bad headlines?
Y/N L/N (6:35pm): I’m not changing my article so you don’t have to deal with media backlash
The sound of your pot boiling over made you abandon your phone on the counter. Shit, shit, shit, you tugged it off the burner and found a tea towel to wipe up the spill.
Once you got it back under control, you saw the screen of your phone light up with his contact photo, a knot in your stomach let you know you might not be hungry for dinner anymore.
You swiped your thumb to answer it. “What?”
“Hello to you, too.”
“What do you want, Harry?”
“I want to talk about this feature--isn’t that what we agreed to the other day with Jeff?”
“Pretty sure I agreed to talk to Jeffrey,” you informed. “But go ahead.”
“M’not trying to be a dick, Y/N, okay? But you’ve never wanted our relationship to be making huge news so I’m a bit confused as to why you’re now going to drag me through the mud.”
“Harry,” you said his name calmly and then let out a sigh. “I am not dragging you through the mud by acknowledging the fact that your status as a musician and celebrity has affected my career.”
It felt stupid to explain it to him, it was something he’d been more than willing to acknowledge before.
“Y/N,” he mirrored your tone. “Hard to agree with you when one of the sentences you wrote in your draft is: Sure--as Gigi explains--dating a talented musician has it perks, but the downfalls are easy to count: lack of privacy, grueling schedules, and the constant need to remind just about everyone that you’re more than the vagina he has sex with when he’s not in meetings or on tour.”
“Well, it’s a rough draft, Harry--m’sure Donna wouldn’t let me actually publish that. I’ve just got to get the creative juices flowing.”
He let out a sigh, one that suddenly reminded you that despite his flaws and missteps, he was still human. He still had emotions on the other end of the phone and he was probably right that referencing your--or Gigi’s--vagina was probably not a great idea.
“I’m sorry that I didn’t tell you about Jessie.”
You were quiet for a second, stirred the pasta in the water and waited to see if he had anything else to say.
“Are you there?”
“Yes--I just don’t have anything to say to you.”
“Alright, listen. I can’t stop you from breaking up with me and I can’t stop you from writing this feature however you want, but please remember that you’ve worked so hard for your career to be what it is. You built it before I was in New York--” another sigh. “I don’t want to be petty with you, alright? If we’re actually ending this I don’t want it to be stupid and dramatic and immature.”
You clenched your jaw at his insults cloaked as adjectives. “Kind of feels like the pot calling the kettle black.”
“Y/N I can admit I fucked up, alright? But I don’t want to put our friends in the middle or feel like I can’t ever see them because you’re upset with me.”
You couldn’t help yourself: “Sounds like you think they’d take my side.”
He let out a groan, for a second you wondered if he would hang up on you. But you softened when he said: “Actually I just think we care about each other too much to be like this.”
A pause, bubbles in the pot floated towards the surface and across the living room was his spot on the sofa.
“Fine,” you said, your voice less angry.
“Fine?”
“I’ll send another draft to Jeffrey in a few days--but I’m not about to write a glowing review for you. That’s not even what this feature is about. My job is to write about Gigi and the things that she and I spoke about. I won’t let you and your manager dictate it. Showing you the transcripts or the draft is just a courtesy.”
“Okay,” he said.
“Okay.”
“I’ll--uh, talk to you later, yeah?”
You hung up then, but only because you didn’t know if you would.
Jessie Alby (6:45pm): Can we please talk soon?
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AN: HI FRIENDS! Sorry this chapter took a minute!!!! I am so excited to be sharing this story with you all and it means so much to get messages and hear how invested people are in my characters, so thanks for always reaching out and sharing your thoughts, feelings, opinions, questions, etc. Hope everyone is having a lovely October!!!!!
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too soon to tell, chapter t w o
You dropped your bag in the foyer of Harry’s house after work on a Thursday. It was quiet--he wasn’t home yet and you’d keyed in knowing that you’d have some time to yourself.
You felt a vibrating in your pocket when you shrugged off your coat, your visible reflection told you it was a FaceTime call, Alyssa’s name danced across the screen until you slid your thumb to answer.
“Hello, hello,” you greeted, walking to find a seat on the couch.
“Where are you?” She furrowed her brows as she took in your surroundings.
“At Harry’s--he’s out, though.”
She wiggled her eyebrows suggestively. “I will never get sick of you lounging in his house when he’s not there.”
You rolled your eyes at your old roommate’s antics--she’d always been the number one supporter of your relationship and when you texted her earlier saying you needed advice, she promised to call on her lunch break.
“I’m not lounging,” you informed with a shake of your head. “I just got out of work, we’re having dinner tonight.”
“Mr. Popstar isn’t too busy?” She teased, aware of the tension both of your schedules had been causing.
“Apparently not.”
She forked a bite of food into her mouth, the sun was shining through the window behind her, the walls of your old apartment were redecorated now with the art of your replacement. “Is that what you wanted to talk about?”
“Sort of,” you leaned back and let out a breath. “I mean, it’s all connected--”
“What is?”
“I’m getting to it,” you made a face at her through the phone. “So--don’t freak out, okay? Cause I don’t even know if anything will come from it and Harry doesn’t know yet.”
She nodded and gestured with her hand for you to get on with it.
Knowing Alyssa, she was already jumping to conclusions in her head. You were pregnant, you were engaged, you quit your job, you had a huge fight with your sister. No, no, no.
“I interviewed for a job in LA...and I haven’t told Harry because all our friends have been so excited about us being in the same spot again but--”
Her eyes went wide at the mention of a US city, she did her best to hold back her smile until it faded when you said: “I don’t know. Something feels off between us.”
“Off between you and Harry? More than just being busy?”
“I’m probably overthinking it but,” you looked around his living room. Pictures of his mum, his sister, his cousins--even his manager--were tucked in frames and placed on shelves. There wasn’t a trace of you in his house except for the toothbrush upstairs and the key on your keyring.
“It feels like we’re not moving forward. And we’ve both been busy, like I’ve told you, but since we don’t live together sometimes we go days without seeing each other and it’s fine, I get that he’s busy, obviously, but--”
“But you want to move in with him.”
“Well, I don’t know--I did, sort of, I think--but then I heard about this job in LA and it sounds amazing but Jessie just moved here and no one will shut up about how great London is.”
Alyssa offered a sympathetic frown and repositioned the bowl in front of her to get another bite. “What’s the job?”
You almost didn’t want to tell her, sure she’d get excited and eager to have you back in the same country. You winced a little, bracing for her reaction. “S’with E! News,” you shrugged. “It’d be on-air.”
“Shut up! Are you serious?!”
“Yes m’serious,” you rolled your eyes. “But I haven’t told any of them because you know how they are.”
She nodded, “Jessie will not want you to take it.”
“God love her, but of course not. And Harry spends time out there, so it might be okay, but it’s not like I could ask him to go with me.”
“Why not? He’s famous, Y/N--he belongs there.”
“It’s too soon,” you whined. “He’s not my fiancé and we don’t live together, so--I don’t want to make it weird.”
“But you love him,” she reasoned.
“Yeah, but s’been weird lately!" You tried to drive home the point. "He’s made no mention of moving in and we’ve been dating for a year and a half, I’ve been in London for over a year now. He’s not even mentioned it, Alyssa, I swear. He’ll say things like ‘one day we can go on vacation,’ and ‘what should we do for Christmas?’ But he’s made no concrete plans to actually have a future with me.”
“Maybe he doesn’t think you’re ready.”
“Maybe he’s not ready,” you volleyed.
“Maybe,” Alyssa shrugged. “But you won’t know if you don’t ask him.”
“But if I ask him and he’s not on the same page I’ll look like an idiot and he’s busy with the album and now I’m thinking about moving to LA and--”
She watched you, waited for you to say more, but you were out of words. You changed gears.
“Maybe we’re just not meant to be long term.”
“Oh come on,” she groaned. “Not this again.”
“What do you mean by that?”
“Your whole ‘we should have left it in New York’ shit.”
You lifted your eyebrows to demand further details.
“You were freaked out in the beginning that you’d move back there and it would be weird.”
“And?”
“Was it weird?”
“Not at first, I guess. But I mean, come on---don’t you think we should have taken some kind of step forward by now? Even just mentioning the idea of moving in together?”
“I don’t know,” she said truthfully. “Maybe it’s different with someone like him.”
You rolled your eyes--what if that’s what you were sick of?
People always said that: it’s different because of his job, it’s different because he’s on the road, it’s different because he’s famous.
Of course it was, and that was fine, for a while. But what if Harry’s job always got in the way of feeling normal? What if you couldn’t have a real wedding because of it? What if you could never send your children to summer camp because of it?
Were you willing to sacrifice your own future to live an unconventional life with someone just because you loved him?
“When will you hear back about the job?”
“Dunno--talked to them last week on Monday and they said this week at some point. S'been a while, so hopefully soon.”
You’d been keeping busy, trying to avoid your personal email at all costs and also making sure that Harry had limited visibility of your screen at all times.
“Do you want it?”
You thought on it for a second. Being offered a job at a company like E! would certainly be an ego boost, but the mere thought of having to explain to all of your friends that yes, you’d been back in London for 18 months and now you were packing up and moving even farther away than before wouldn’t be easy. That seemed to be the one certainty in the whole situation: no one would take it well.
“I don’t want to leave everyone here, especially Harry--but I also don’t want to be stupid and think that this relationship is going somewhere if it’s not.”
Alyssa nodded and let out a sigh. “I get that, I mean, of course you have to do what’s best for you. But I’d hate to see you not be with him just because things are hard right now.”
You leaned your head back on the couch and sighed. You didn’t want to break up with Harry. If anything, you wanted to move forward and move in with him and do what you’d always imagined: have a good job, have a few kids, try to be happy.
But what if you’d been naive enough to think you could have all of that with Harry and what if this is how you were finding out that you couldn’t?
Were you still stuck in your teenage fantasy of marrying the boy you'd long been crushing on?
She watched you for a second before she reassured: “you’ll figure it out.”
You smiled, glad you’d called Alyssa if only to have someone talk you off the edge a little bit. You missed waking up one room over and her love for basketball games and New York 99 cent pizza.
“Well it’s not like I have to make a decision right now,” you said. “I haven’t even heard back from them. For all I know they could never reach out again because I bombed my interview.”
She rolled her eyes at your self-deprecation and offered a few final words of encouragement before you hung up and promised to catch up soon.
Ever since you’d left, Alyssa had taken it upon herself to keep you up to date on the ins and outs of New York. New restaurant? She’d send you pictures and a 200 word review. Crazy subway rats making the news again? Articles and video proof would be sent your way in a matter of hours.
She’d gotten a new roommate to fill your bedroom and apparently things weren’t always peachy between them. Peyton was quiet and shy--according to Alyssa. She was up every morning at 6am and in the shower at 6:30. She did yoga in the living room and hated it when Alyssa left empty beer bottles on the coffee table.
Alyssa was starting to lose her shit, swearing up and down that she needed to either pull the trigger and move in with Owen or find a new place altogether. It was my apartment first, she’d say. She should leave, not me.
It had been hard that year to leave the city you’d grown to love but harder to leave Alyssa and Carly and the things that made New York feel like home. It was also, in hindsight, hard to leave the place where you and Harry reconnected and built the foundation of your current relationship.
You heard commotion from the front door only a few minutes later when you rummaged through Harry’s kitchen for a snack.
“Hi,” he called from the other room, a close-lipped smile when you stuck your head around the corner to greet him.
“Hi! How was the photoshoot?”
“Good,” he nodded, watching as you stuck your hand into a box of crackers. “What time are we meeting everyone?”
Right--Thursday also meant dinner somewhere downtown with everyone in tow.
“7pm--but Jessie said we should try to get there early since it’s a new place and no one’s ever been.”
He nodded in acknowledgement of your words but seemed distracted, like his mind was somewhere else and his body was the only thing tying him to the room.
“Are you okay?”
“Yeah,” he nodded, looking back up at you. “Just a busy day and a busy week.”
You nodded, unsure if he wanted to say more or if you were supposed to have more of a reply than a simple nod of your head.
You’d both been stammering out awkward sentences and trying to dance around the elephant in the room for a few weeks, but now, under his gaze, you felt more uncertain than before.
“Are you okay?” He turned the question around and watched you closely.
“Yeah,” you shrugged, moving to sit on the couch.
“You seem--off.”
You didn’t know what it was. Could he possibly sense the tension in your shoulders as you waited for an email either way? You got the job! We regret to inform you…
Or was he just aware that you felt awkward since it had been almost two weeks since you had any considerable amount of alone time and even longer since you were able to have a date night that wasn’t interrupted by Jeff or Erica or someone who needed something from him.
He took a few steps closer towards you, a look of concern etched on his features. “What’s wrong?”
The words were on the tip of your tongue when he looked at you, eyebrows lifted as he waited for you to spit it out.
“I guess I feel like we’ve been distant.”
He pushed his head forward, almost like he hadn’t expected that to be the issue. “What do you mean?”
“I don’t know,” you shrugged, caught off guard by his pushiness. Maybe you shouldn’t have brought it up.
“You don’t know?” He pressed.
You broke eye contact with him for a minute, wondering why you had to state the obvious. “Well, you’re busy all the time, Harry.”
He let his shoulders rise and fall in defeat, looking around the room in frustration. “I told you that finishing the album would be busy.”
“Yeah, but you forgot to mention that you’d also be busy when the album is done once promo starts and then tour,” your voice was quiet, not so much angry as you were upset.
You were tired. You wanted nothing more than to spend a night on the couch with him and only him, tell him about LA and about the sudden itch you felt to see more of the world than just London.
But with Jake and Adam always around and Bryn and Jessie, too, paired with interruptions from Jeff and Erica--it felt as if there was no hope for a private or honest conversation.
He came to sit closer to you on the couch now, took your hands in his. “I know my job is a lot, okay? I know it’s annoying that I don’t necessarily get weekends off or have a typical schedule, but once the album is out and the promo is done I’ll have a bit of a break before the tour. We can go on vacation somewhere, just us.”
It sounded nice, maybe a tropical island or a cabin in the woods. But before you could nod in agreement the thought of Los Angeles popped into your head.
His album was due out in December, promo from now through the New Year, some time off in February and March for both of your birthdays and then tour. You had no clue where you’d be by then.
Would you be in LA? Would you be in London? Would you be stuck in this same spot on his couch with decision paralysis and a crushing sense of uncertainty about the future?
He knew you were over-thinking and tilted his head. “What?”
You blew out a slow breath of air, twisted a ring on your finger and then looked up at him again.
You didn’t even have a chance to be more honest, a buzz on your phone on the coffee table in front of you both broke the room in half, the name of the woman you’d spoken to was in bold next to your email icon. You reached for it quickly, Harry’s brows furrowed when you pulled it close to your chest so he wouldn’t see.
“What’s that?”
Hi Y/N, thank you so much for your patience over the last few days. We would love to offer you a position with NBC Universal - E! News as an on-air correspondent in our Los Angeles headquarters.
You looked up at him quickly, cheeks red and heart racing.
“What’s happening, are you okay?”
“I got a job offer,” you said quickly, still holding the phone close to you.
“What?” He smiled, “why didn’t you tell me you were looking? I didn’t even know--”
“It’s in Los Angeles.”
His smile faded instantly, he blinked a few times like he must have misheard you. The leather of his couch felt cool beneath your legs, a clock on the wall ticked and for a second, you wondered if he could hear your pulse as loudly as you could.
He pulled his eyes away from you but then quickly scanned over your face. “Are you taking it?”
“I don’t know,” you said honestly.
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
Silence, words filled your brain and crawled up the back of your throat, desperate to be said out loud, in real life, instead of just circling in your head.
Because I don’t know what we’re doing or if we’re moving forward. I don’t know where I want to live. I don’t know if I can stay in London forever. I don’t know. I don’t know. I don’t know.
Only the last part made it out between your lips. “I don’t know.”
“Y/N,” he stood up, more angry now as he looked around the room and scratched at the base of his neck. “This kind of feels like a bombshell to drop on someone.”
“I was going to tell you--but we haven’t had a second alone, I just didn’t want to have to tell everyone before I knew what was happening.”
“You didn’t even tell me you interviewed,” he said.
“The last time I saw you alone we got interrupted by Erica three times in one conversation.”
“Probably for a good reason--”
“But you seriously can’t even put your phone down lately when we have dinner, even when everyone else is there!”
“I can’t help it that my work is insanely busy right now!”
“I don’t want to fight with you,” you said this quickly, voice higher than usual and a heat on your skin that he normally didn’t provoke, at least not in a bad way. You stood from the couch and put your hands on your hips. “I don’t know what I’m going to do and I don’t even know if this job is right for me and under no circumstances are you allowed to tell anyone. Especially Jessie.”
He rolled his eyes at that.
“What’s the eye roll for?”
He shrugged his shoulders. “Everyone just got back and now you might leave and--”
“I said I don’t know if I’m going to take it.”
He was quiet at that, clucked his tongue in thought but then disappeared upstairs to shower and change.
The car ride over was awkward, he asked how your day had been and you told him you talked to Alyssa, he bristled when you admitted you told her about it.
It wouldn’t be the end of the conversation, you were sure of that. You’d likely end up at his for the night and he’d apologize for being busy, you’d apologize for not telling him and maybe, you hoped, he’d ask you to stay over.
When you greeted Adam with a hug, you ignored Harry’s sour mood and opened the menu in front of you.
“My first dinner as a Londoner,” Jessie smiled, shimming her shoulders in excitement when Bryn looked over the specials across the table from you.
“This is on you, right? New job, new salary?” Jake teased.
“Maybe if I hadn’t just bought a whole new bedroom set,” she rolled her eyes.
“How’s everything with you?” Adam eyed Harry, his question veiled to avoid too many details in public.
Luckily, Harry’s ability to go out in public in London was similar to that in New York. As long as a private room or a table in the back was requested, he could typically get away unscathed if dinner was less than 2 hours and if he had his back to the dining room.
“Fine,” he shrugged, eyes still down at the drink menu.
“Fine?” Jessie leaned forward, her tone insinuating that she didn’t believe him. “You’ve been working really hard all summer and now all you say is ‘fine?’”
He glanced up at her, lips in a forced smile. “S’all good, Jess--just tired.”
Bryn gave you a look, one that asked what stick is up his ass?, before she changed the topic.
“Let’s not tell our server how fit she is tonight, yeah?”
Jake let out a snort of a laugh and sipped at the water that had already been brought to your table. “Alright, you thought the one last week was just as hot as I did.”
“I did,” Bryn agreed seriously, “but I didn’t offer my number unsolicited. How do you know she’s even straight?”
“She’s got a point,” Jessie chimed in. “Remember when you asked that girl to dance in the club when her girlfriend was right there with her arm around her?”
“I thought they were just mates!” Jake defended.
“You also have the worst radar for gay women ever,” Bryn nodded.
“When was this?” Harry asked, the hint of a smile on his face when he watched Jake adjust his napkin on his lap.
The words came out of your mouth without thought. “You weren’t here--you were in LA.”
He met your eyes when you replied, nodded, and then leaned back in his chair, effectively bowing out of the conversation without saying another word.
You weren’t trying to be short with him. You looked over to Jessie, who undoubtedly sensed the tension, and offered a smile. “How’s the flat?”
“Good,” she nodded. “Glad that all my furniture got put together without any scratches,” she reached over and patted Adam on the shoulder.
“We’re not children, Jessie, we can handle some furniture.”
“You broke my dresser when I asked you guys to move it into another room,” Bryn reminded, a look of confusion on her face at Adam’s retort.
“Only because it was already half broken and a piece of shit,” Jake said. “I love you, Brynnie, but that dresser was already knocking on Heaven’s door.”
Harry let out a laugh at that, another memory that he had missed while on a trip to a studio somewhere north of London. He excused himself to the bathroom after you placed your orders, and once he was out of earshot, Jake leaned down and looked at you.
“What’s going on with him?”
You forced a cheesy grin and blinked a few times. “He’s just grumpy.”
“‘Bout what?” Bryn asked.
“Guys,” you leaned back in your chair, hoping you didn’t have to say too much. “I can’t tell you every single thing that happens in our relationship.”
“Well, when it affects us I think we have the right to know,” Jessie shrugged, playing the typical we don’t like when our parents fight card.
“It’s not affecting you,” you shook your head, eyed her seriously over your glass of Pinot Noir.
Adam shrugged, a smirk on his face let you know he was trying to rile you up. “He’s grumpy at dinner and we’re all here and we’re all aware of it. We don’t like tension between you two.”
“Alright, leave the woman alone,” Jake waved them off. “As long as everything’s alright.”
“It’s totally alright,” you nodded, wondering when you’d gotten so comfortable lying to them. “He’s just busy with the next phase of work.”
With Harry’s album yet to be announced, you couldn’t sit around in a London restaurant and divulge details--even if you were all acutely aware of the work he’d put in and the upcoming announcements and events.
Adam let it go. “How’s work for you, Smalls?”
Another shrug of your shoulders, “s’good--I told you all about my November cover story, right?”
“Yeah,” Jessie sipped a glass of Cabernet. “But you said you didn’t know who it was going to be with.”
“Well, s’cause I had to drop the bomb on him first,” you nodded in the direction of the bathroom. “I’ll be sitting down in a few days with Ms. Gigi Hadid,” you lowered your voice and leaned forward to say her name.
Bryn’s eyes went wide, Jake grimaced.
“How’d he take that?” Adam asked.
“He’s not thrilled,” you admitted. “But I’ll talk with his team about what to avoid specifically, I guess. Her team will probably have a list of off-limits items too.”
Bryn let her elbows rest on the white tablecloth. “Yeah, but, you can’t just ignore the fact that she’s dating Zayn.”
“I also can’t just barge in and stir shit up,” you said.
Harry pulled his chair out next to you and sat back down. “Who are you stirring shit up with?”
Everyone chose to be quiet now--Adam looked down at his phone and Jessie reached for her wine again.
“Just telling them about my cover story,” you admitted, watching his face for a reaction.
He nodded, a tiny smirk in your direction. “I’d appreciate it if you didn’t stir shit up,” he said, reaching to put a hand on your thigh beneath the table.
Those were the moments that made you feel less panicky--the realization that he was still choosing you and even when the tension was high and the mood was low, he’d reach over and remind you that yes, he cared. Even if he was late to dinner or distracted.
Which is why, when you got back in his car that night and headed for his house, you were surprised when his mood shifted again.
“I’ll just drop you at yours?”
“Oh--yeah, sure.”
“Did you want to come to mine?” He looked over at you like he hadn’t expected any resistance to sleeping separately.
You were quiet for a second--not if he didn’t want you there. “No, it’s fine.”
“I can’t read your mind, Y/N.”
“You don’t have to,” you said quickly, a prickly tone to your words when he made an unreadable face.
He drove in silence for a few minutes, closing in on your neighborhood when the street lamps disappeared for the sake of suburbia.
Eventually he cleared his throat and that sent you over the edge.
“What do you want me to say, Harry? Do you want me to apologize for interviewing for this job?”
“No,” he said simply. “I just don’t know why you thought you didn’t need to tell me about a huge decision like that.”
“It wasn’t a decision until today when they offered it to me.”
“Just seems like something you talk to your boyfriend about.”
You looked over at him in the dark of night, the glow from the dashboard didn’t help you see his features as he turned left onto your street.
“Well, sorry that we didn’t have the opportunity to talk about it between your work schedule and Jessie moving in and group dates--”
He slowed down on your street, put his flashers on when he stopped in front of your building. “I don’t want to keep secrets from each other,” his voice was softer now. “I don’t want to not know what’s going on in your life. I did enough of that for two years when we weren't talking.”
You sighed at this, the sentiment broke whatever anger was lurking inside you and when you looked up to see him, you wondered if you should ask him.
Are we ever going to move in together? Are we ever going to get engaged?
You figured the lead up to his sophomore album wasn’t the best time for that conversation. He pressed a kiss to your forehead and you climbed the stairs to your flat alone.
**
A few days later you sat nervously in a conference room and watched as beads of sweat formed on the water glass in front of you. Tyler had brought you in, offered you a breath mint, and promised you’d be fine. When you asked him if the whole room was hot he said it was just you and your nerves--but the droplets of water that raced towards the wooden conference table begged to differ.
You’d gotten email after email this morning: one from Jeff with the rules he and Harry had come up with and eight from Gigi’s team with requests for snacks, topics to discuss, topics to avoid, lunch request, arrival and departure time, and a few extra regarding booking her photoshoot the next day.
A text lit up your screen when you tried to smooth your your hair in the reflection of your screen.
Jake Newcomb (10:42am): In case you’re wondering what to get me for my birthday, a video of Gigi Hadid saying she loves me would be perfect!
You ignored his text and felt a pang of disappointment in your gut, you thought it would have been Harry with words of encouragement.
He was fine with you doing the interview, he seemed to come around to the idea when he met with Jeff and had a chance to mark some things as off limits.
So far, his list was as follows:
Don’t publish anything too negative about anyone in the band (if she says anything negative about anyone in the band)
Harry and Jeff got to listen to the taped interview
Harry and Jeff got to read the article before you sent it off to your editor and could make suggestions to cut things if they felt it necessary.
It seemed silly, but you’d long been used to the lingo of contracts and riders and ground rules for things like these. You knew both Harry and Jeff trusted you, in fact, Jeff was now choosing to see this as a good opportunity for press before the announcement of Harry’s album.
Your biggest concern, truly, was not looking/sounding/acting like an idiot in a room alone with Gigi Hadid. Your second biggest concern was conducting a unique interview and writing a unique article.
You knew that Naomi and Tyler were nearby for support if needed, Tyler had already walked by the conference room three times to see if your subject had arrived and likely to make sure you hadn’t sweat through your blouse. You thought the commotion in the hallway was him until you saw a group of busy-looking people with cellphones and sunglasses.
“Hi,” you stood from your chair, extended a hand in her direction and offered your best professional smile. “It’s nice to meet you, Gigi, thanks for doing this interview.”
She seemed hesitant at first, smiled a little and shook your hand. “Happy to,” she said. She turned over her shoulder and locked eyes with the woman who seemed to be the most in-charge of the group. “I’m good,” she nodded.
They hustled out quickly, you stood frozen in place and watched as she took off her coat before sitting in the chair you’d pulled out for her. Once the door was shut behind her posse, she let out a sigh that bled into a frustrated laugh.
“I could never do an interview with all of them just loitering around--wouldn’t that be so weird?”
You nodded, mirrored her smile and had to remind your body how to move. Left foot, right, breathe, sit in the chair.
You weren’t really one to get star struck, but then again, you didn’t spend too much time with celebrities that weren’t Harry or his close friends. You certainly never sat down with a model like Gigi to have a conversation that could be as awkward as this one.
She checked her phone quickly but then put it face down on the table. “I am happy to do this, I know it might feel weird for us to be hanging out--but boys are stupid anyway.”
You smiled at this, immediately relaxed when she leaned back in her chair and crossed her legs.
“Did you also get a whole list of things to not talk to me about?”
She stifled a laugh and rolled her eyes. “Zayn can be a man of few words but,” she looked down at your phone on the table. “Off the record--he had quite a bit to say when I told him you were doing the interview.”
“Off the record,” you laughed, “Harry did too. But how is Zayn?”
“He’s good--thinking about getting back in the studio at some point to start working on a new album, he’s been writing a bunch. Harry’s doing the same I assume?”
“Yes, yeah, he’s been really busy.”
“I know things might not have gone great between all of them at the end, but I don’t want this to be awkward for us.”
“Me neither. You can say as much or as little about the band as you’d like.”
She nodded, you figured it was time to give your pre-interview spiel.
“So, I’ll record us in a few seconds, you can obviously say ‘off the record’ if there’s something you don’t want me to include, but I like my interviews to be like conversations, basically. I’ll send someone on your team the recording when we’re done and a typed transcript. You’ll have 48-hours to look over it and revoke any statements that you don’t want me publishing or to clarify anything. After that I’ll write the story, send a final copy to your team before it gets finalized here, again, 48-hours to look it over and request any changes but at that time we don’t have to approve the requests. This is all in a document somewhere that someone probably signed for you--I’m sure your team is used to it, they know what they’re doing.”
You reached forward and pressed a few buttons on your phone, she watched until you looked up and told her: “It’s on now, so we’re recording and today is September 10th, 2019.”
She smiled like you were old friends. “Where do we start?”
“Is there somewhere you want to start?”
She leaned her head to the side. “We can jump right to it--”
“To what?”
“Oh come on,” she laughed. “Us talking about One Direction will make headlines for weeks.”
“Yeah,” you shrugged. “It’s funny that us just sitting down together will be a big deal, right? As if we’ve got nothing better to talk about than them.”
“Sexism at it’s finest,” she admitted.
“Do you find that a lot in your industry?”
She thought on this for a second, looked out the window but nodded. “It’s unavoidable, in a lot of ways. I think there have been a lot of changes over the last few years to at least move us in the right direction, but we’ve got a long way to go.”
“How would you want to see it change for the better?”
“Well, I’d love to have more privacy about my love life, for one,” she caught herself, looked to you quickly as if she felt bad. “Off the record, we can talk about it here, it’s fine. It’s different to talk about it with a woman, number one. And you’re you, you get it.”
“We don’t have to talk about it,” you offered.
“No, I don’t mind. Unless you plan on asking me stupid things like how amazing is it to be dating someone as handsome as him or do I find that his job overshadows mine, we’re good. We can be back on the record, too,” she looked down at the numbers on your phone, eyeing the ticking of the recording clock.
“But do you know what I mean? No one asks guys questions like that--or they’re different, at least. People just want to know everything about your relationship when you’re a woman and they view you in the context of who you’re sleeping with.”
“Yeah,” you nodded. “I get that.”
She smiled, “it’s hard to date someone famous, isn’t it? Lots of rules around it.”
You were surprised by the genuine look in her eyes, despite her own status and contracts and income, she seemed to be acknowledging that the two of you shared a unique experience and were now brought together under strange circumstances.
“It’s definitely hard for me--but, isn’t it easier seeing as you also have an assistant and a manager and people to, I don’t know, facilitate things? Not to invalidate how hard it still is.”
She laughed at that, “Yeah, in some ways, probably. He’s really private though, which is good for us. We focus on ourselves and do our own thing most of the time.”
“Right--you seem pretty private about it for the most part.”
“Yeah,” she shrugged, reflecting on your words for a second. “I think to me it feels weird that my relationship status can make so much news, you know? Modeling is my job and obviously that’s not your typical nine-to-five but--I like to focus on my work and when male journalists are continuously obsessed with my love life, I find that weird. I mean, you get that, right? I’m sure it’s no different with Harry.”
You bit your lip, embarrassed at how she’d managed to turn it around. She was right--you’d been getting more and more annoyed with how much your relationship with Harry was dictating your life--and for some reason, you admitted this to her.
“People are much more interested in me because I’m dating him--but they’d be just as interested in you even if you weren’t.”
“Would they?” She tilted her head to the side, another rise and fall of her shoulders as she looked around the room. “I get what you’re saying, but sometimes it feels like dating him gave my career a huge boost. I don’t know, maybe I shouldn’t have said that.”
“No, I totally get it. I feel the same way. I was building my career in New York and it was going well and I was writing fun stuff and making a name for myself and then I started hanging out with him and--”
“Everyone started to care more about you?”
“Exactly.”
You thought about the headlines, the articles, the pictures in tabloids that undoubtedly helped your name spread like wildfire through London and New York. You had to ignore it, most of the time, reassure yourself that you were a good journalist and a good employee and the good things in your career were not just a byproduct of the boy who slept in your bed.
She smiled knowingly, her lips in a thin line when she looked down to the tape recorder, almost like she felt guilty for steering the conversation in a different direction.
“Sorry,” you cleared your throat, sitting up straight. “Back to business.”
The conversation bled into more normal things: the upcoming fall fashion week, how she manages self-care when she’s busy jetting from city to city, and, try as you might, the two of you wound your way back to your commonalities a few times: sexism in your industries, life as young women dating famous men.
You thanked her profusely at the end and promised that Tyler would be in touch to confirm the date and time for her corresponding photoshoot later that week. She draped a Versace leather tote over her shoulder and seemed to float out of the office with a posse of beautiful people behind her.
You stood--still awestruck--in the hallway and watched as the elevator doors slid shut.
“She’s prettier in person,” Tyler said from beside you, a notebook in hand as he stared at the air she’d once occupied. “I didn’t know if that type of thing was possible but she’s definitely one of the prettiest humans I’ve ever seen.”
“She was nice,” you turned around to see Naomi behind him, also eager for more details. You headed back for your office in a trance, they scurried behind you as you thought aloud. “I mean, I didn’t think she’d be rude--but I didn’t know what to expect with the whole band history stuff.”
“Did you talk about that?”
“Less about the band and more about--” you blinked a few times and sat down at your desk, “sexism, what it’s like to be a woman dating a famous man and how that affects your career.”
Both of their eyes went wide, a smile tugged at Naomi’s lips when Tyler put a hand over his heart in shock.
“I’m sorry, so you’re telling me that you just had a heart to heart with Gigi Hadid about sexism and your boyfriends and--”
“I guess so,” you shrugged, just as surprised as they were.
**
You gave Harry fewer details that night over FaceTime as you brushed your teeth. He was somewhere in New York, disappointed that he’d miss Jake’s birthday dinner and celebration, but he promised to make it up to him when he got back.
He lifted a cup of tea to take a sip, light shone through the window behind him on your screen and he scrolled through emails on his laptop.
You spit into the sink, an ocean between you.
“Have you thought at all about the offer? You have to tell them by tomorrow, yeah?”
You nodded, wiped at your mouth with a towel and then crossed your arms. “I can stay, I mean--if you want me to.”
He made a face at that, leaned forward and furrowed his brows together. “Of course I want you to stay, Y/N, but I don’t want to be the reason you pass on something important."
You were quiet for a second, uncapped lotion before spreading some across your forehead.
"I'm sorry I didn't react well when you told me. I'm proud of you and it sounds like a phenomenal opportunity...I don't know, it's just the timing of it--"
You cut him off, “well none of this is ideal timing, Harry.”
“Do you mean with my album?”
“I mean with any of it,” you said truthfully. “The album, the job offer--”
“Well the album existed before the job offer,” he trailed off.
Only a matter of seconds and a handful of words had managed to get you elevated and angry and ready to fight. That was happening more easily, these days.
“So what am I supposed to do? Always come second? Make every decision in my life based off of your career and your music?”
“S’not what I’m saying.”
“Then what are you saying?”
“I’m saying that--I dunno--I thought you knew what you were getting into.”
Quiet, your hands gripped the counter in your bathroom. Your bare feet were on the floor and you wondered why you were trying so hard to make everything work if things were only getting harder.
“That came out wrong,” he shook his head, the look on his face let you know he wanted to take it back.
“No, it didn’t." You let out a sharp laugh. "I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”
“Take the job,” he said quickly, like he saw you reaching for the button to end the FaceTime call.
“What?”
“Take it. If it’ll make you happy, take it.”
“And what about us?”
“We figure it out,” he shrugged. “We try.”
You sighed, unsure what to say.
"It's Los Angeles," he said. "Not Antarctica."
You blew air between your lips, looked up at him for a second. The curl of hair that dipped onto his forehead, the way his mouth pulled up in the corner like it always had.
“I love you, Y/N. I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”
His words didn’t offer any relief and you spent most of the night staring at the ceiling, tossing and turning and wondering how on earth you were supposed to make a decision.
Leaving him in London felt stupid. A few bumps in the road and you were ready to jump ship?
But staying and hoping for a ring or a shared address felt even stupider, somehow. You couldn’t pass up a dream job and hope that things would go well for your career if you weren’t going to work for it.
A few hours of rest came after 3am, your morning coffee was a tad bitter and the clouds in the sky seemed to match your mood. Maybe you should have spent more time thinking it over, talking it out, even calling your mum or Katie for advice.
But you couldn’t have told everyone about the job offer without a certain answer, and unfortunately, the person you wanted to talk to the most didn’t seem like he could be impartial.
You’d been upset, you’d been feeling disconnected from him, but that didn’t erase all of the good times and the happy memories you’d made, right?
Naomi and Tyler locked themselves in your office for lunch on Friday, they promised that they’d never tell your boss and they swore they supported you either way. Tyler used an expo marker to make a pros and cons list of staying in London and Naomi came up with a points system for each bullet on the list.
You stared at it, looked at the names of all of your friends, your family, your favorite cafes and restaurants in London. At the very bottom of what had become a long list of reasons to stay was his name.
And on the other side, Tyler’s poor drawing of an engagement ring sat beside a big question mark.
You didn’t know what the future held for you and Harry, and maybe that was okay. You didn’t know what would happen when you packed your life into a suitcase and moved to New York, but you’d survived to tell the tale.
They were quiet, eyes darting from the board back to you as they waited for you to say something.
You sighed, Tyler shifted on the couch in your office and Naomi smoothed out her blouse.
“I can’t take it,” you said.
Tyler’s eyes went wide, “really? You’re staying?”
“I can’t leave,” you shrugged. “I can’t leave him behind and leave my friends and start all over in a new city right as I’m really finding my groove here again.”
“Okay, I know we said we’d support you either way but I would have been fucking pissed if you went,” Tyler admitted, moving closer to wrap his arms around you.
You laughed, let him squeeze you before Naomi joined in.
“Me too,” she confessed, a smile on her face when she pulled away. “But I would have at least faked happy for you.”
You bit back the doubt and second-guessing, used their excitement to fuel a regretful email.
Thank you so much for the opportunity, but after careful consideration I cannot accept this position due to the geographical location.
Your thumb hovered over the small blue arrow, a wave of panic flooded through you when you hit send, like somehow, something inside of you knew that everything was about to change.
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AN: apologies in advance for the cliffhanger......except I'm not sorry lmao
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In honor of Harry’s birthday, how would each mc in your fics celebrate the day?
GET OUT omg. I can't do all of them but I'll do a select few:
unplanned mc: OKAY well Jane is two WHOLE YEARS OLD now so MC would definitely plan a fun day for all them. A beach trip with some pizza (cut into tiny bites for Jane of course) and ice cream afterwards like their first date. They'd do dinner with Jeff and Glenne and Lexi and the whole group at some fancy sushi place and Jane would stay with Irv and Shelli while they're out. They'd pick Jane up on their way home from dinner and she'd be fast asleep in the backseat as Harry drives them home. MC would hold his hand and say sorry this isn't as wild as your previous birthdays probably were, and Harry would smile at Jane in the rearview mirror and say are you kidding me? A two year old who thinks she's a teenager and a hot wife? All my birthday wishes came true!
two years too late/too soon to tell mc: Okay well you KNOW the entire gang would be all up in his business all day. I think they'd through him a surprise party and MC would be tasked with keeping him busy in the afternoon while Jake, Adam, Jessie, and Bryn all snuck into Harry's house to decorate it. MC would be nervous AF because aren't they supposed to be honest? and Harry can definitely tell something's up. And of COURSE like the PEST that Harry is, he's asking a thousand questions about what their plans are for the evening and where everyone else is (they're at work, they're busy, Jessie's getting her eyebrows waxed), and eventually he gives up cause he knows she's lying and he can't bear to watch her so uncomfortably pull shit out of her ass to try to throw him off. They'd drive back to Harry's house eventually in the evening and Harry would feign surprise even though he 100% knew it was happening at this point and MC would get all pouty, you knew! How did you know? But the rest of the gang has no idea because Harry's a good actor. Jake would make a joke about how they're all back to their dishonest ways and at the end of the night when everyone else leaves, MC would plant herself on the couch next to a buzzed Harry and they'd fall asleep.
seed + spark mc: Harper and Harry would probably be living in an apartment together by now in London and they'd definitely meet up with Gemma and Tierney for a sibling brunch. Harper would have two bloody mary's and Harry would crack some joke about how she's getting sloppy on his birthday. They'd have dinner with friends tonight and then 100% have birthday sex.
that makes four mc: 100% Maeve and Cece would be up at the crack of dawn making cupcakes and MC would be cleaning up behind them. The cupcakes would be kind of shitty (Cece would also probably lick a few of them), but Harry would come downstairs eventually with messy hair and Cece would RUN UP TO HIM and pound into his arms. Maeve would come and tug him by the hand to see the cupcakes and Harry would say something like: "It must be my birthday if we're allowed to have cupcakes for breakfast!" And MC would roll her eyes cause that's not breakfast food but the damage has been done, Harry already said it, and the girls are tearing into them already.
#WOW#this was cruel#but so fun#hbd harry styles#idkthisisjustforfanfic#unplanned#tstt#tytl#tmf#ss#seed + spark#harry styles fanfic#harry styles fic
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TOO SOON TO TELL, the playlist
Chapter 2
Much Too Much, Lennon Stella (an awkward dinner)
Chapter 3
Love Him I Don't, Maisie Peters (December 23rd, 2011 flashback)
Chapter 4
U Suck, Emily Bear (post meeting packing)
Chapter 5
Headphones, Valley (December 23rd, 2011 - Harry's flashback)
Chapter 6
Not Friends, Maisie Peters (Thursday dinner, Phaal Curry)
Chapter 7
Someone Like You, Noah Kahan ft. Joy Oladokun (Roman's party)
Chapter 8
Always, I'll Care, Jeremy Zucker (Harry's POV reconnecting, Thai food, late night walks)
Chapter 9
Liability (Reprise), Lorde (December 29th in the bathroom, H's POV)
Bittersweet, Fransisco Martin (MC and H in the kitchen, post December 29th flashback)
Is It Just Me?, Emily Burns (after the fight with Jake, H brings MC home)
Chapter 10
Confetti, Meagan Gunnip (talking with Katie, arriving at red lion)
Have a Holly Jolly Christmas, Burl Ives (in the hallway @ the red lion)
Tough Act, Maisie Peters (MC and H in the bathroom...again)
Elvis Song, Maisie Peters (secret circle, the end)
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